Apparition
by Stephanie Metallicar
Summary: Based on Season 1. Sam Winchester wakes up from another premonition, one that seems more troubling than the last. He knew when the attack would be and he knew he had to stop it. It seemed Hell had a new motive, but what could that mean? SAMxOC DEANxOC
1. Prologue

_This is a Supernatural based fanfiction. I wanted to double my readers so I decided to post here along with Quizilla and Deviantart. This story is based on Season One of Supernatural. I hope you enjoy enough to continue reading. Please check my Youtube account under ApparitionMedia for some Apparition features._

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**Prologue**

FRIGHTENED, CONFUSED, ANXIOUS--ALL EMOTIONS OF A YOUNG GIRL.

She paid no attention to the audible voices heard above her. She ignored the concern, the care, and the hospitality behind the words spoken to her. She stood in the void of silence and solitude, where she felt she belonged. She was numb, stunned.

What had just happened? She kept asking herself, but there was no answer to be received.

She could not feel the tears, the salt water that ran down her pale cheeks like droplets of rain. She could not even feel the burn in her eyes.

The memory of what the little girl last saw continued to replay in her head, and she hoped to God it would stop.

She lost everything in those past few minutes. Her life was gone, the little girl knew. She was sardonic as soon as the police had arrived, followed by the paramedics. Emotions congested within her as she watched them zip up the black body bag.

_How can you be sure? Check again, please, check again. He is still alive, I'm sure of it!_

However, no one listened to her, just pulled her away from the juncture.

What would become of her? To be sent to an orphanage, someone had mentioned. They were making the call, she assumed.

At that moment, in the dark, cold night, her life was over. How could she live a life without her father?

It was hard to believe it just happened. He died, so painfully, right in front of the little girls eyes. What was she to do now that she had these memories to live with, to have riding on her back as she grew and lived through the years?

It was not fair. Why was she the one that had to suffer? Why did it have to be _her_ father? Did she do something wrong? Did _he_ do something wrong?

The little girl couldn't understand. But now, she recognized the fragility in a human life and how it could die and break in a blink of an eye. One choice, one decision could dome your life forever. What was the decision her father took that forced him to pass away? Did he think of his daughter first before making that decision? Was this decision so important?

He was all she had left, he was her everything.

But he was gone, never to return again.


	2. Hourglass

_When I first wrote this story, this wasn't originally the first chapter. But while editing I realized the story was beginning at too much a quick pace, so I had to alter a lot of text in order to like what I was reading._

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**Chapter One: Hourglass**

DENVER, COLORADO

Nothing. She could find nothing within the depths of the assortment of objects scattered across her room. There was too much of a mess to make sense of how everything was remotely _organized_. Her patience was wearing thin, even though she was to blame for this unnecessary dilemma. As she stepped over a pile of clothes, to avoid breaking anything that might have been fragile lying beneath it, she stepped onto something sharp, forcing her to jerk back.

Sara Collins cursed loudly as she slumped to the ground, rubbing the sole of her foot. The skin had turned red with irritation, pulsing with a pain that was almost bearable. She gritted her teeth, cussing in her mind as much as she was allowed to. For such a small object to cause pain, it hurt a lot.

"You okay?"

Sara frowned at the question, looking up at the tall man that stood in front of her. He beamed at her, amusement in his beautiful blue eyes as he observed the expression on Sara's face. She rolled her eyes in response. She knew right away what his first thought was, and there was no way she was going to give him the satisfaction of saying it. Not now.

"Don't you dare say anything, Andrew."

Andrew only shrugged his shoulders, the smile still on his bright face. "Who says I was going to say anything?" Sara stared at him for a very long time until his fake smile fell from his lips. "Okay, okay. I'll shut up. But seriously, babe, you need to consider—"

"Getting rid of all this stuff," Sara finished for him in an irritated tone. It wasn't the first time she heard it. "Yes, I know."

Andrew smiled at her with a real smile, his pearl white teeth visible as he lent her a hand. Although she was slightly annoyed by him, she accepted the gesture without hesitation. He pulled her back to her feet effortlessly. Andrew pulled her into him, placing his arms around her, embracing her tightly.

"Why do you have to go now?"

Sara sighed, leaning against him, the agitation swept away. She placed a hand against his chest. "Because it's been already three years since I've seen her. I miss her, Andy. It's been too long since the last time I've seen Jamie."

It took a few seconds before Andy replied. He understood the tight relationship between Sara and Jamie. It would have been selfish of him if he would to convince her to stay in Denver. "How long did you say you were going to be there for?"

"A couple of days at the most," she answered and pulled away from him. "There are still a few things I need to grab from your house."

Andy pursed his lips the way that Sara would always remember. She ran her fingers through his short, dark brown hair, feeling the softness of it. Tracing her fingers over the stubble on his chin, she smiled towards him.

"I need to get to work...," he said regrettably.

"I know."

He then pouted humorously. "But I don't wanna."

Sara grinned, poking his chest. "Well, you gotta."

"Yes, ma'am." Andy rolled his eyes exaggeratingly. All joking aside, his face turned back into his somewhat serious expression. "You going to call me when you get there?" Sara nodded her head; bringing her attention back toward the small bag she had been stuffing her clothes in for the weekend. "You still have that key to my house, right?"

"Yep." Sara zipped up the bag, throwing it onto her mattress. She began pushing the remains of clothing and other objects under her bed.

"When are you going to clean up this place?"

"I'll do it when I get back. I'm off of school and work for the week; I have time to clean the house," she replied. She grimaced as she thought forward. "The _whole_ house."

Andy chuckled. "Have fun with that." He looked at his watch, frowning. "Okay, I better get going. Drive safely, okay?"

"Don't worry."

He placed a hard kiss against her lips. "Don't be picking up some better looking guys than me while you're gone."

"No promises." Sara laughed.

Andy sent her a careful stare before exiting out the door from her bedroom. She listened to his quick footsteps down the stairs and out the door before she turned back to the bag that lay silently on her mattress.

With all clothes packed, Sara quickly began cooking herself lunch in order to settle her troubled stomach. She hadn't eaten breakfast—not that she regularly ate breakfast—and now her stomach growled with the lack of patience Sara felt earlier. Anticipation still lingered within her, however, as she thought of Jamie.

Jamie Leslie was a good friend of Sara's. Their relationship resembled that of two sisters. The orphanage was the first place they met since Sara's father passed away. They kept close through the difficult years of seclusion from society. It was a frustrating time for Sara. So used to her father, Eric Collins, being by her side in all of her childhood, she became rebellious, a troublemaker, unfortunately bringing Jamie down the road with her. Jamie didn't mind at all, however. Sara never knew why Jamie was also in the orphanage with her. She never talked about her family, and Sara never pushed her to. She was quiet the first time they spoke; but Sara never gave up on her. Sara dragged her along into everything she did, whether it was trouble or downright stupid pranks. Through the months, Jamie began speaking more. It was good to hear her voice. From what Sara could remember, she was getting tired of talking to herself, even though Jamie was there to listen.

As the two got older, being relatively the same age, they began volunteering at the orphanage, to help new comers adjust and help with fixing up the meals for breakfast, lunch and dinner. They were not given much pay, which was predictable. Turning the age of eighteen, the two put together what little they had and rented the cheapest apartment they could find. It would be naïve to say it wasn't that bad. The cockroaches was one thing they knew they had to get rid of, the disgusting looking wallpaper was another thing they knew they had to live with, and the flickering lights was another they knew they could just ignore.

After working endless hours at low paying jobs, and sharing the low-rate apartment room, Jamie Leslie and Sara Collins were given a second chance.

Impossible, was the best word to describe the next thing that happened in their lives. Not only one, but the two of them were given scholarships to fulfill their academic needs. They celebrated simultaneously.

However, though scholarships were a beautiful thing, there was only one obstacle that lay in front of their fundamental achievements: Their friendship.

Sara was an artist; Jamie had a talent and love for teaching children.

The women knew their principles, and knew what was needed to be done in order to live a good future without the support of a family. They sent applications toward colleges that were in opposite sides of Colorado State. After so many rejections, the two were replied with letters of acceptance. Sara moved to Denver to attend Rocky Mountain College of Art and Design, while Jamie moved south toward Alamosa to be nearest of Adam State College.

They kept in touch as often as they could through letters and phone calls. Of course, in the modern times email would have been less of a hassle to work with, but they both could not afford a computer at a time like this. Sara's motivation was not toward a computer, anyway. She set her sights on affording a car. It took her years before she finally had the money to afford a used black 1999 Toyota Camry. It may not have been a Corvette or a Ferrari, but it was special to her. Jamie on the other hand worked on furnishing her home rather then affording a vehicle. She was happy to use the bus; she did not need a vehicle just yet.

Jamie had told Sara that everything was now completely furnished, and she was broke once again. Sara laughed at the thought. She was broke having her house look beautiful, while Sara was broke affording a car, and her townhouse looking the exact same as when she bought it: outdated and needed of repairs. Sara had no time with working on the repairs herself. She couldn't. She was bombarded with the amount of art assignments given to her that she covered her cracked walls with painted canvases instead.

The bought vehicle was just recent and Sara waited for an opportune moment to use it to travel over to Alamosa to pay a little visit. It was three years since the last time she saw Jamie. Once school was done, Sara had a week of paid-vacation at her disposal. She decided to use three days, from Friday to Sunday to stay over Jamie's to catch up like old times. Jamie was ecstatic at the suggestion.

Andrew Evans, however, was not.

Andy and Sara had been together for more than a year now. He had been the first promising guy she had met in Denver so far. Her love life was never the greatest, especially considering she was cheated on: not once, but twice in a row. She never knew if it was her, or just the types of guys she had been choosing but she became very reluctant to begin another relationship. Andrew had become very persistent in the long run. Eventually, Sara gave him a chance. She hoped he was the one. Her hope became faith when he gave her a promise ring on their one year anniversary, a promise that she was the only one for him, that their relationship would last.

And it had since that day. They saw each other about two to three times a week, appreciating one another further when their time was spent apart. Their weekends were their together time, but Sara had to sacrifice that in order to visit Jamie. Andrew was very understanding of their friendship, along with the decision she made to leave, though it didn't mean he was in acceptance to it. He knew his opinion no longer mattered whenever Sara had made a decision. There was nothing he could say or do to change her mind. Worst of all, she made a decision to leave Friday afternoon, meaning the alone time he thought he could spend with her could no longer apply because he worked during those hours. He did all he could by helping her pack and settle things for the three hour trip to Alamosa in return.

Sara finished up her quick and easy macaroni and cheese lunch and quickly washed her dishes. Once those were complete, she was on the move again. She brought her bag down the stairs, which was heavier than it should have been. Sara didn't realize that maybe she put more than what was necessary for the weekend in there. She brought the bag outside and into the trunk of her car that stayed parked on her driveway. She ran back inside, throwing her keys and wallet into the first purse she could find. Locking up the front door, even double checking it—not that there was anything a burglar would want to steal in there—she jogged toward her car and entered inside. Sara threw her purse onto the passenger seat, buckling her seatbelt and starting up the engine. The radio turned on, playing a song that sounded way too mellow for a three hour drive.

"I can fix that."

Placing in one of her CD's, _Metallica_ replaced the mellow music, replacing it with some wicked drumming, excellent guitar solos, and the impeccable vocals of James Hetfield. _Master of the Puppets_ had begun playing as she reversed out of her driveway.

Her first destination would be Andy's house, before she drove toward Alamosa. Her cell phone had been left abandoned there along with her pink iPod Nano that she took everywhere—it was an exception for this one time. It was only a ten minute drive to his house when Sara pulled up at the side of the street.

Andy's house was much bigger than Sara's, considering he had parents to also help support him, not that he didn't work himself, of course. Sara rummaged through her purse to find the extra pair of keys to his house. She was out of the car once she found them. It took Sara multiple of times until she finally unlocked the door. The lock was impossible, and Andy had promised to get it fixed if anything were to happen. But he was still neglecting the chore.

In a few short minutes, Sara retrieved both her cell phone and iPod from Andy's room. She scoffed as she looked around the clutter of mess.

"And he talks about me...," she muttered under her breath.

Sara made her way toward the dresser just by Andy's bed. On the surface, a photograph that remained frameless lay under a thin stack of yellow note paper. It was a photograph of her and Andy, cheek to cheek with big grins on their faces. Her white writing was at the top left corner of the image, spelling out one year anniversary, just so he wouldn't forget. Sara remembered the memory on that day, and how romantic Andy had made the experience. She smiled at the thought and grabbed a black permanent Sharpie that lay a few inches away. She began scribbling on one of the pieces of note paper that lay over top the photograph.

_Don't miss me too much!  
Love you! xxx  
Sara_

Sara dropped the Sharpie back onto the dresser, reading over her writing before walking out of his bedroom. She made her way down the stairs and out the door, locking it after herself. As she walked toward her car, she turned on her cell phone, letting it load. Another picture of Andy and her was set as the background, a more humorous one. It was Andy's humor that Sara fell in love with more than anything else.

When she got into her car, she threw the cell phone and iPod into her purse, turning on the engine once again. _Welcome Home (Sanitarium)_ played over the silence. She heightened the volume as she drove down the street and around the corner, toward Alamosa.


	3. Premonition

**Chapter Two: Premonition**

ALAMOSA, COLORADO

Sara smiled as the wind blew in her face through her opened window. It was a gorgeous day, an evening to look forward to. The heavy guitar riffs blasted through her speakers, all the windows rolled down as she drove down the deserted road. She had not seen a vehicle in a couple of hours, but she did not care. Sara brushed her brunette, lengthy, wavy locks away from her face.

With a full tank and a vehicle that could stand a good mileage, there was nothing that she would need to stop for now. The gas station back in Salida was her first and last pit stop toward her destination. Sara was presently surprised and outraged by the price of gasoline nowadays. She was already struggling with her finances; this was another problem that was ridiculously unnecessary. However, as she thought about where she was going, who she was visiting; the problem was no longer significant in the journey.

Jamie was already informed about her arrival just as soon as Sara arrived at the Loaf N' Jug Gas Station.

A light flickered on Sara's dashboard, catching her attention momentarily. The numbers changed on her digital clock. Realization lowered the corners of her mouth. She sighed audibly.

"Man...," she murmured. "I should have left earlier."

Lowering the volume of the music she was listening to, she pulled out her cellular phone from within her purse. She felt for the cold object, grasping it when her fingers touched its surface. She pulled it out, flipping it open and began dialing a number. Sara brought the phone to her ear, waiting until the silence went away and the ringing occurred.

She listened to the phone ring, navigating the vehicle to continue its straight chorus. After four rings, Sara didn't receive an answer and she was instantly sent to Jamie's answering machine.

_"Hey, this is Jamie Leslie. Please leave a message after the tone and I'll get back to you. Thanks."_

Sara waited for the tone before she began her brief message. "Hey Jamie, I might be a few hours late. Sorry. Don't wait up for me. See you soon. Later." She hung up the phone.

It had been a half an hour since Sara had left the message. She yawned loudly as she turned off the engine of her car. Stretching her arms out of the position it had locked into for the past three hours, Sara took in a deep breath.

She was here, she finally made it.

She stared at the house ahead of her, to her right, with a grin on her face. The indoor lights in the house illuminated the black front lawn. There was no moon that night.

Sara blinked a few times, fatigue glazing her eyes. Her purse was already in her hands when she locked and closed the door behind her. The wind blowing in her face helped her stay awake as she walked around her vehicle and opened the trunk. She lifted the heavy bag, struggling to close the trunk back up. In a few minutes, she made her way across the lawn, jumping over the steps on Jamie's front porch.

Knocking on the front door, Sara was bottled up with anticipation, impatient to see Jamie's smile—which was something contagious. To see her bright face and her mysterious multicoloured eyes (her left iris was a sea green while her right was a hazel brown, the same shade as Sara's). If there was anything Sara adored, it was her eyes.

On the contrary—just like the phone—there was no answer. Sara understood that there would be no reply to the message she left earlier, but to have no answer at her front door was odd. The lights were on, somebody was home.

She knocked again, even louder. Sara brought her hand to the bronze doorknob. Surprisingly, it turned at the twist of her wrist. It must have been left unlocked.

"Honey, I'm home!" she shouted throughout the household.

It was too silent. A pin dropping on the floor would have been heard from upstairs if someone had dropped one. Sara could hear the wind clearly from outside, that's how quiet it was.

Sara dropped her bag and purse on the foyer floor, dropping the weight from her hands as she observed the foyer. A few things were different from the last time she had been here, but Sara was sure that those were not the differences Jamie had been excited about.

"Jamie? Hello?"

She entered the living room where the light from the foyer faded into the blackness. Every one of her footsteps creaked, causing Sara to become more skittish than she thought she was. She did not hear an ounce of Jamie's movement that would indicate she heard her announcement of her arrival. Instead, she heard the lingering silence that engulfed the whole building.

A growling snarl followed by a bark interrupted the silence. Sara jumped with alarm, her attention shot toward the side door.

"Damn dog," Sara murmured under her breath, embarrassed at herself for being frightened.

"What are you doing here?"

Instantly, Sara turned to the voice, jumping a step away from the dark figure that stood tall in front of her. His features were hidden in the shadows, confined from the eyes of Sara that still needed time to adjust to the lack of light.

"Who are you?" Sara retorted in return.

"I could ask the same question, you barged in here."

Sara winced. He was right.

"I'm an old friend of Jamie's. Sara Collins."

The man nodded. "Right, of course, she mentioned you were coming by. I'm David Perry, Jamie's boyfriend. Sorry I scared you. I thought you were breaking in."

David turned away, flipping the lights on.

With the bright light being too sudden, Sara covered her eyes for a moment. "The door was open, so I invited myself in." She blinked a few times. "Where's Jamie?"

David turned back to Sara, his features conspicuous. His short bronze hair was ruffled in a messy style, his skin pale. His blue eyes still held hostility, while his slight grin wavered.

"She stepped out for a bit," he answered.

"In the middle of the night?"

This was too abnormal, too suspicious. Sara was skeptical. Jamie never mentioned she was in a new relationship recently. David was as much of a stranger to her as a bum on the street. She could not trust him yet, not until she was given a reason to.

"She'll be back. I'll let her know you stopped by." David gestured her toward the front door, indicating for Sara to leave.

She narrowed her eyes in response. He had no right to kick her out of a house that did not officially belonged to him. Who the hell did he think he was? "Wait a minute. Jamie offered for me to stay here for the weekend, I have no where else to go."

"May I suggest the Valley Motel not too far from here?"

A light noise interrupted Sara to fight back. She could have sworn she saw David tense at that instant. His reaction brought accusations forward, accusations that Sara was ready to pick out. His body was like a statue, stiff and pale. After a few seconds, his shoulders relaxed only slightly.

"Must be the dog," he inquired.

It couldn't have been the animal, however. It was still barking continuously outside. The canine's snarls sounded quite distant compared to the other noise. The suggestion wasn't logical when carefully thought through. But it didn't seem that David cared whether the suggestion made sense. Was he hiding something?

In the silence, Sara could distinctly hear the whisper of a breath, a breath that sounded strained, dry.

David's eyes had darted towards the closed door across the room. His eyes flickered with an emotion that was hard to decipher. Sara watched him carefully, trying to read his face, trying to understand his strange reactions. Unfortunately, he was not as easy to read as an open book.

Sara took a step toward the door, his strange behavior motivating her to investigate.

He continued to try and reason. "It's probably the pipes again. I told Jamie to call a plumber."

"A pipe doesn't create those types of noises," Sara interjected.

Back in her stride, she took fast steps to the door, turned the knob and threw it open. Her eyes widened at the sight, her jaw dropping open. It was too unbelievable to see that she staggered with a sudden dizziness. Her eyes darted with alarm, taking in the scene piece by piece. The binds, the sign of struggle around the room, the shaking figure that lay on the mattress, restrained. This wasn't humane.

A muffled cry came from the gagged, distressed woman that lay tied against the bed posts on the mattress in the bedroom. The light from the living room shined upon the tears that had spilled out of her eyes and down her cheeks.

"Jamie? I-Is that you?" Uncertainty could be heard in Sara's voice as she asked the question.

Although overwhelmed with frightened confusion, instinct told Sara to save her. Now. Sara ran to her side, attempting to untie the binds from her right wrist. They were still tightly secured; Sara gritted her teeth in frustration.

"C'mon...," she whispered. Her eyes had begun to tear up. She looked toward Jamie's face briskly. Her heart skipped a beat at the sight of her terrified expression.

Jamie's eyes were wide, looking past Sara as she cried out once again, a cry that conveyed horror. Fear began to develop in Sara's body. She was too frightened to look behind her. The hands that had been attempting to unbind the ropes that held Jamie stiffened, immobile as she thought of the worst.

"I can't let you do that."

At the voice, Sara glanced over her shoulder, toward the silhouette at the door. David stood there, tall and stiff as a marble statue. Instantly, the door slammed shut behind him, the room engulfed by darkness.

COLORADO SPRINGS

Samuel Winchester jolted out of his sleep, holding his head as it pulsed with pain. Alarmed, his eyes darted throughout the room. His tense muscles relaxed as he slowly came to realize where he was. It was the same motel room he had fallen asleep in the night before.

Sam closed his eyes, replaying the images he saw in his vivid dream. It was another premonition, he was sure of it; it was too detailed to be a dream. He could still hear the voices in his head, the voices of the woman, the man, even the cries of the woman who was tied up, the dog barking, the door slamming shut. The detail in their faces, it was too much to imagine.

"Sammy?"

Sam gazed up at his older brother, whom was just pulling on his brown leather coat. His brows were lifted; the way Sam remembered when Dean was bemused or curious.

"You all right?"

Sam looked down, nodding his head. "Yeah, I'm fine."

Dean Winchester stared at him for a long moment before shaking his head and looking away. "Get your ass out of bed, we're going to get some breakfast before hitting the road again."

Pulling the bed sheets away from his body, Sam jumped out of bed.

"You didn't find another hunt, did you?"

"No. I'm just hungry and anxious to get the hell the out of here." Dean grinned wryly.

"Let me just take a shower first," Sam said.

Dean stared after him as he walked toward the washroom. "Don't take long." He didn't receive a reply and Dean only sighed after Sam closed the door behind him.

The brothers reached a local breakfast diner as soon as Sam was done and ready to go. Dean perceived the absence of Samuel's mind whenever he spoke to him—most of the time he knew he wasn't listening to a word he was saying. It was difficult to hold a conversation with Sam whilst he typed on his laptop with no realization of the world around him.

Dean watched him incredulously as Sam ignored the plate of food in front of him, all attention on the computer screen. Dean dropped his fork onto his plate and crossed is arms over the table. He stared at his younger brother for a moment, until he finally looked up.

"What?"

"You haven't eaten anything on your plate. What are you looking up anyway?"

Sam gazed at him for a short period of time before returning his eyes back to the screen. "I'm looking for anything on the news, any suspicious events, that sort of thing."

"Aw, c'mon man. We've checked Colorado up and down. There are no hunts here. I don't even know why we're still here." Dean stared out the window on his right side. "Maybe we can go to Texas next, I heard some stories there."

Sam, once again, tuned him out and continued to scan the articles. Truth be told, there was a different reason behind searching any strange events. Sam wanted to make sure his premonition had not occurred yet. The articles were clean of any kidnapping or violent murders involving a woman in the past couple of days. It was a sigh of relief, yet, Sam was discouraged at that moment. He had a great responsibility on his shoulders now.

"Sammy, do you hear me?" Dean asked. His expression soured.

"Yeah, Texas," Sam replied absently.

Dean leaned back in his chair as Sam began searching for a map of Colorado. Sam closed his eyes, trying to remember the images in his premonition. A street sign, anything. Once he remembered the white letters on the street sign he saw the woman drive by to visit the other girl, he shot his eyes open and began typing it into the search bar. He found it at that instant. It was a few miles away from the border to the next state. Sam now needed to convince Dean to drive towards the street. There was still time, his premonition had not taken place yet.

"I think Texas is a good idea," Sam agreed. "Colorado is safe from any paranormal activity."

Dean smiled brightly. "That's the spirit, Sammy. Eat and we can get out of here faster."

Sam closed his laptop and pushed it to the side. "What did you order for me?"

"The pancake special," Dean answered.

Sam said nothing and finally picked up his fork. Dean watched his movements with a quirked brow.

"You sure you're all right, man?"

Swallowing down his food, Sam reached for another piece. "Why do you keep asking?"

"I don't know." Dean leaned against the table again. "You've been kind of on edge since you woke up this morning."

He didn't answer. Dean was still in the dark about his dreams...visions. It was only logical that his recent behavior was abnormally distant and unusual. However, Sam knew he still could avoid confessing it to his older brother. He didn't need to worry Dean about insignificant things. Sam, though, was becoming troubled by the dreams now. Why were they starting up again, and why was he dreaming about women he didn't even know?

"It's nothing." Sam began rubbing his eyes. "It's just exhaustion." Dean seemed convinced enough. "What do you know about Texas?"

Dean was excited to escape Colorado. To him it felt like dullsville. No hunts plus no appealing ladies equaled an agitated and impatient Dean Winchester. Texas sounded more inviting every minute.

He had begun driving from Colorado Springs down a long stretch of road toward Texas, his classic rock playing in the background.

"Turn right here on Walsenburg."

The map lay sprawled across Sam's lap whilst Dean was behind the wheel of his black 1967 Chevrolet Impala.

Dean's brows furrowed. He may not have been the navigator, but turning right didn't sound directional toward Texas State. "You sure?" he asked with uncertainty. "Let me see that."

Sam pulled the map away from his clutches. "It's just a little detour to get out of the state."

"Detour?" Dean questioned. "Detour for what?"

"Just trust me, okay?"

"Trust you on what? Dude, where are you taking me?"

"It's just a little detour down the road," Sam repeated. "I want to check on something."

"Sonofabitch," Dean muttered. "I knew there was something on your mind since we left the diner. What is it?"

Sam shook his head. "I can't really explain. I just need to know this for sure."

Frowning, Dean cussed under his breath. He was bemused but decided not to force anymore questions on him. He trusted his brother; to an extent Dean was still unsure.

The ride became silent after the argument. Dean's metal music distracted and avoided anymore conversation for the long hour. Sam stole a glance at Dean, recognizing the bitterness that contorted his face into a snarl.

"Dean...," he began.

"Save it."

Dean's sight was firmly on the road ahead, not at all giving a short glance at his brother. Sam frowned, turning toward the window again. He gazed into the short distance towards a gas station called Loaf N' Jug. Disinterested, he studied the black Toyota Camry parked by one of the gas pumps. A woman stepped out of the store, walking toward her car.

His heart skipped a beat.

"Stop, stop, stop!"

Dean slammed his foot on the brakes, an action done by startling instinct. The car jolted to a screeching halt.

"What? What's the matter?" Dean questioned quickly. Sam was already getting out of the vehicle before he could be answered. "Sam!"

Sam slammed the door behind him, avoiding a passerby as it drove passed him. He ran across the road toward the gas station ahead. His brother called out behind but his only focus was in his vision as he stared at the recognizable face of the woman he saw in his dream. It was her, the woman who went to visit her friend. She was slowly walking to her car, observing her gas receipt before entering the vehicle.

He needed to stop her quickly.

She was just about to turn on the engine when Sam reached the vehicle.

"Please! Get out of the car!" he shouted as he tapped on the window, repeatedly.

The woman flinched at the unexpected approach. She sat there, unsure of what to do.

"You're in danger!" Sam persisted.

Sara Collins reached for her door handle when the tall man took a few steps away from her car, giving her the space of comfort that she now could not appreciate. She was skeptical for a moment. This stranger with shaggy brown hair could be some psycho, despite his appealing profile. However, she pulled the knob and exited the vehicle.

She stood a few feet shorter than him, her wavy, brown hair lying neatly over her shoulders. Her eyebrows were pulled together with confusion and skepticism. She tightened her leather coat together which laid over top a gray hooded jacket and a black T-Shirt. She wore navy blue jeans below. The woman was wearing the exact same outfit she wore in Sam's dream. Today must be the day his premonition would take place.

Sara gave him a stern look. "What's this about?"

"Please, a friend of yours is going to be in grave danger," he rambled.

"Sammy!"

Sara turned to the voice. Another man ran towards the confrontation. He was shorter than the other—now presumed as Sam—and his hair was also much shorter, a lighter shade of brown. Sara could see the stubble on his chin the closer he approached, making him appear older.

She took a step back. This didn't seem like a likely event to her favor.

The man reached Sam's side, his brows furrowed with what Sara assumed to be incredulous anger.

"What the hell is the matter with you?" he questioned sternly, smacking his shoulder. He glanced at Sara for less then a second then stared up at Sam. "If this is your idea of picking up chicks then..." The man trailed off, gazing back to Sara with extensive attention, looking her up and down. A grin slowly traced his features. "You got good taste." His gaze became a leer. "Hey there."

Sara slightly shook her head, followed by a roll of her eyes in disapproval.

"It's not like that, Dean," Sam interjected. He turned back to Sara. "You have to believe me. It's not a good idea to visit _her_."

Sara had enough. "Look, I don't know who the hell you guys are—but give me one good reason why I shouldn't call the cops right now." Sara pulled out her cell phone to dramatize the words she spoke.

"No, wait, you have to listen—"

"That's enough!" the shorter one said, pulling Sam by the arm. He sent Sara a friendly smile. "I'm sorry we bothered you. My brother here, he's still intoxicated from last night, he probably thinks you're somebody he knows."

Sara crossed her arms, not amused.

"We won't bother you again."

"Dean—"

"Shut up and get in the car," Dean whispered harshly.

Sam took one final glance at the woman before Dean began pulling him away, back to his Impala.

"What's the matter with you, huh?!" Dean shouted. "You don't just go to random people and freak them out. What's wrong with you, man?"

Samuel looked away from his brother for a moment before his eyes were brought back to his.

The encounter with the two men frightened Sara for the remainder of the drive. What the taller man said brought questions forth and no matter how much she tried, she could not have them contained. What was she to do now that she had those formidable thoughts swimming within her consciousness?

Sara tried to distract herself. Sing to the music on her radio, focus on the drive. But after every few minutes, her mind would return to what that man said. But why should she listen to those thoughts? What did this man know about the future? Sure he knew that Sara was going to visit a friend, but that could have been just a coincidence. It was not like her to listen to strangers; therefore, she decided to ignore the earlier event. Pass it by like it hadn't occurred. The man's words would not foreshadow the evening she had planned.

Brushing her brunette, wavy locks away from her face, she took a quick glance at the dashboard. The light flickered from her digital clock and the numbers changed.

"Man...," she murmured. "I should have left earlier."

With the two men having to approach her just after she refilled her tank at the gas station, Loaf N' Jug, she was much later than she expected. And at that moment, Sara believed every parent's word: never talk to strangers.

Sara grabbed her cell phone from the inside of her purse that laid on the unoccupied passenger seat. She lowered the volume on her radio as she dialed Jamie Leslie's home number. For thirty seconds, all she heard was ringing, before the answering machine came on.

_"Hey, this is Jamie Leslie. Please leave a message after the tone and I'll get back to you. Thanks."_

"Hey Jamie, I might be a few hours late. Sorry. Don't wait up for me. See you soon. Later."

Leaving the brief message, she hung up the phone and continued driving down the road.

Sara didn't realize how many minutes passed until the sun had set and the sky began to darken. It was a new moon tonight so the sky was crisp black, only a few stars were visible.

Exhaustion caught up to her, causing her to yawn loudly. She stopped her vehicle at the side of the street. The address was only a few paces away from her right. She stared at the house for a moment. The indoor lights were brightly on, lighting up the lawn before it.

Sara grabbed her purse from the passenger seat and got out of her car, walking around to grab her bag from the trunk. She made her way toward the front entrance. She knocked on the door, eager to see Jamie after three long years.  
However, there was no answer.

Biting the inside of her cheek, she knocked again, louder this time.

Jamie wouldn't have left indoor lights on if she wasn't home, that would just be a big dent in the electricity bill that Sara knew she could not afford.

When there was no answer once again, Sara brought her hand on the doorknob. With stupefaction, the door opened with the twist of her wrist. She entered in with a shrug. Jamie must have left it open for her once she got the message.

"Honey! I'm home!"

The silence lingered longer than she would have expected. Bemused, Sara dropped her purse on the floor of the foyer.

"Jamie? Hello?" she tried again.

She strode toward the living room where the hall lights faded into the blackness. At every creaking step, Sara cussed in her head. The nerves were getting the best of her.

Sudden barking caused Sara to jump at that instant. She shot her gaze towards the side window. She had forgotten that Jamie owned a dog now, a giant German Shepard to be exact.

"Damn dog," she mumbled, embarrassed.

"What are you doing?"

Sara turned instinctively. She jumped back, away from the dark figure that stood in front of her. Sara's eyes still had not had time to adjust; all she could see was blackness.

"Who are you?" she questioned in return.

"I could ask you the same question, you barged in here."

She pursed her lips, feeling foolish. "I'm an old friend of Jamie's. The name is Sara Collins."

Distinctively, she could see the figure nod. "Right, of course, Jamie mentioned you were stopping by. I'm David Perry, Jamie's boyfriend. Sorry I scared you; I thought you were breaking in."

David turned away and flipped on the lights.

The bright light was too sudden and Sara covered her eyes for the moment.

"The door was open, so I invited myself in. Where's Jamie?"

David turned back to Sara, his features now conspicuous. His skin seemed oddly pale, his bronze hair ruffled in a messy style. The grin on his face wavered and Sara could slightly see the hostility still held in his eyes.

"She stepped out for a bit," he answered.

Sara's brows furrowed. "In the middle of the night?"

She was becoming nervous, the thoughts of the man's words earlier returning. Jamie never mentioned a boyfriend and things were getting equivocal. Was she really in danger?

"She'll be back. I'll let her know you stopped by." David gestured toward the front door, hinting Sara to leave.

She narrowed her eyes. "Wait a minute. Jamie offered I stay here for the weekend, I have no where else to go."

"May I suggest the Valley Motel not too far from here?"

Sara's patience was wearing thin and she opened her mouth to fight back, but a light noise had interrupted her. She was certain that David tensed at that moment. His body became stiff like a statue, but after a few short seconds, he relaxed slightly.

"Must be the dog," he inquired.

The suggestion wasn't logical. That couldn't have been the animal. The dog did not cease his barking since he started. The canine's snarls sounded distant compared to the other noise.

Through the silence, Sara heard a whisper of a breath, a breath that sounded strained.

She could see David's eyes dart toward the closed door across the room. His eyes flickered strangely with an emotion that was unknown to her.

Sara was reluctant to take a step toward the door.

"It's probably the pipes again. I told Jamie to call a plumber."

Sara immediately disagreed. "A pipe doesn't create those types of noises."

She was skeptical, jogging back into her stride toward the door. She turned the knob and threw the door open. Eyes wide, jaw dropped open; she could not believe what she was seeing. Sara staggered from balance with dizziness. Alarmed, her eyes averted around the room, stunned. The room looked like it had just gone through an act of struggle; binds were tied around the bed frame, a trembling figure lying on the mattress. This wasn't humane.

A woman lay gagged and tied against the bedposts on the mattress, her cries muffled. The tears on her cheeks glistened under the light that was being given off from the living room. She looked like she had just gone through Hell.

"Jamie? I-Is that you?" Sara could not accept what she was seeing. This couldn't be real.

Sara ran to her side, beginning to untie her binds on her right wrist. They were tightly secured. Crying out with frustration, she began pulling at them.

"C'mon...," she whispered. Tears began to form around the rims of her eyes, blurring her vision. She briefly brought her eyes toward Jamie's face. Seeing her sudden terrified expression, she thought she felt her heart stop.

Looking past Sara, Jamie's eyes were wide. She cried out with horror. Sara could feel her stomach drop with fear. She couldn't dare look behind her. Her hands began to tremble, the same hands that still gripped the binds that held Jamie's shaken body.

"I can't let you do that."

Sara glanced at the doorway where the silhouette of David stood. The door slammed shut behind him, suppressing the light from entering and the room to be covered in darkness. Sara flinched. Blinded from everything around her, Jamie's heavy breathing was the only thing she could hear in the room. Her eyes began to slowly adjust and her heartbeat began to quicken in rasping speed. Footsteps were approaching her, and she saw a bright sheen of an object beside David's silhouette. There was something in his hand.

Not knowing what to do, Sara worked with anything that came to her first. A threat was her first idea. "Stay away or I swear I'll—"

David spurt forward, the object he held in his hand right at Sara's neck. "Or you'll do what?"

Sara could see now that the object was a knife. She didn't take her eyes away from the blade and her breathing became unsteady.

She shouldn't have come. That man, Sam, was right. Things were looking bad. She couldn't defend herself against a man with a knife, a rather tall man at that.

Sara felt herself being roughly shoved to the floor, her head smacking against the night table that stood beside the bedding frame. She winced at the pain, her eyes jerked back toward the psychopath. The tears that hung from the rims of her eyes fell, cascading over her cheeks.

"Why are you doing this?"

"Too many reasons, I don't have the time to say them all."

David flipped the knife upside down in his hand, the blade pointing downward. He leaned forward. Jamie cried out again, an attempt to distract him before he attacked Sara. David stopped and grinned at her.

"Wait your turn. I need to take care of _her_ first."

His gaze returned back to Sara, his knife at the ready.

Tightening herself against the night table, Sara slowly shook her head. "Please, no—"

Suddenly, the door slammed open, kicked in with an impressive force. The light entered from the living room once again. A tall silhouette entered—another right after. At that moment, the light was turned on in the room. David's figure disappeared from Sara's sight.

"Where is he?" one of the strangers asked.

"Behind you!"

David's body appeared behind the taller stranger, tackling him down to the ground. He brought the knife toward his head, missing him by a few inches. Immediately, the stranger countered by crashing his skull against David's.

With Sara's eyes recovering from the flash of light, she recognized the two strangers promptly from the gas station, the two she had found sketchy to begin with. Sam and...She couldn't remember the other one's name.

The shorter man pulled away the stunned David from Sam, throwing his fist under his chin. Sam immediately tagged back into the fight.

Sara pulled herself back onto her feet, using the opportunity to untie Jamie from the bedposts.

"I got you. It's okay," she said in a subtle voice. Eventually, she was able to untie all the ropes. She pulled the gag away from Jamie's mouth, embracing her as she sobbed uncontrollably, her face buried against Sara's chest. Sara brought her vision back toward the fight.

She stopped breathing as she watched David grab Sam by the neck, bringing the blade toward it as the shorter man balked a mere distance away.

"Come any closer and I'll slice his neck clean open!"

"Dean—"

David tightened his hold around Sam's neck, cutting off his air supply. Instantly, Sam pulled out a bottle of what looked to be water, unscrewing the cap secretly and splashed the liquid onto his captor. David cried out and let him go. Steam began flowing from his body.

David's eyes turned ebony black, dilating at a size larger than the average iris. He smacked Sam away from him with great force. Sam flew across the room, slamming into the shorter stranger. They landed against the wall and onto the floor.

Turning swiftly, David gritted his teeth together toward Sara and Jamie, who sat helplessly.

"David, please. Don't do this," Jamie whispered, her voice cracking.

He grinned slyly, gliding his finger across the stainless steel blade in his hand. "I don't have much choice."

David charged forward.

_Bang. Bang._

Two loud gunshots erupted into the room.

Blood began pouring out of David's mouth and nose before he fell forward, first on his knees, then onto his stomach. The shorter of the two stood behind him, his pistol still aimed straight.

Sara bit her lip, trying with much exertion to look away from the gunshot wounds at the back of David's head. But it was like staring at a train wreck. She couldn't look away even as it disgusted her.

Then, out of the ordinary, black smoke escaped from David's mouth. It was thick black smoke, as thick as a stormy cloud. It was nothing Jamie and Sara had ever seen. They flinched at the sight. The smoke jolted out of the room and away from view.

"Sonofabitch," the shorter one cussed.

"Oh my God...David...," Jamie whimpered. She stared down at his body, rocking back and forth.

"Dean, call nine-one-one," Sam said.

He stepped over the body as he approached the women who were bewildered, completely at a lost. It was nothing surprising to see, Sam understood their point of view of the situation.

"Are you all right?" he questioned.

Sara stared up; waiting for his concern to falter, but it did no such thing. His expression was genuine, careful. Sara's impression of him began to evolve into an acceptance that he might not at all be a crazy man. He saved her life, saved Jamie's life, him and the other man. Sara felt she could brush away any skeptical possibility that they were mad and could take advantage of their vulnerability. If their first thought would be to call the police then they had to be some good people.

"Who are you?" Sara asked, curious to know how they had the ability to find she and her friend was in danger.

"My name is Sam Winchester, that's my brother Dean. We're here to help you," he said calmly.

Dean, who was the shorter and looked to be older of the two, flipped his phone closed, his expression stern. "The cops are on their way."

Sam nodded once toward the door. "C'mon, let's move you two to the living room."

The women complied. Sara helped Jamie onto her feet, where Sam came to her other side to help carry her away from the gruesome event. Once in the living room they helped her onto the couch. Dean closed the door to her bedroom to avoid any unnecessary glance over.

Dean approached the couch, his expression controlled yet a hint of anger was still visible. Sam sat beside Jamie whom was crouched forward, her eyes tightly shut, and her bronze hair shielding her face. She was breathing slowly. He hesitantly placed a hand on her back, an attempt to comfort her.

Scratching interrupted the silence, along with a low whine.

"Do you want me to open the door for the dog?" Sara suggested in a whisper.

Jamie nodded her head, and then buried it in her hands.

Sara took her leisure toward the side door that led to the backyard, wiping away the tears that lingered on her cheeks. Unlocking the door, she pulled it open, jumping back when a large German Shepard ran through. It slowed to a walk, reaching Jamie's side. The canine began licking her hands and face, whining softly.

Sara stayed at the door, her eyes narrowed outside. She saw something, she was certain. A figure or a shadow it must have been. She observed the backyard up and down but there was no more movement. A cold draft blew in.

"What's the matter?" Dean questioned.

Taking one final look, she closed the door and locked it. She shook her head. Nothing was out there. It was her subconscious playing tricks now that she was a target to paranoia.

"Nothing," she replied. "It's nothing."

Dean turned back to Jamie whom was stroking her dog. The gold pendant hanging from his collar was indented with letters, attracting his eyes. Buster was what it spelled. Dean averted his eyesight back to the upset woman. He knelt down bent on his legs, staring up into her face.

"Can you tell us what happened?" he asked slowly. "How did he find you?"

Jamie shook her head slightly. "He didn't need to, I invited him inside." She took a deep breath, her hands shaking. "David was my boyfriend. He came over and...And we got into an argument about his behavior lately...," she began, sniffling. She gazed up, not looking at anyone in particular. She rubbed her eyes to cleanse away the tears. "Anyway, I broke up with him and he—he just changed. His eyes went black—he was just so strange. It wasn't the same David I knew..." Jamie then bit her lip as more tears approached. She sniffled, closing her eyes.

Sara frowned. Jamie didn't mention a word of David Perry to her. Not in her letters, her phone calls, nothing. And now she might have known why. In behavior, she might have meant aggression, behavior not tolerated. He wasn't worth being mentioned.

Sara gazed toward Sam, her expression curious. How did he know? How did he know about David, about Jamie? Who really was this man?

"How did you know to come here?"

Sam slightly grinned, locking gazes. "Call it intuition."

Dean furrowed his brow, glancing at his younger brother. Intuition? This wasn't intuition. Somehow his younger brother knew this was going to happen, to the very last detail.

"I'm sorry," Sara spoke, a sad smile on her face. Bewildered, but she was grateful for their safety. "Here I thought you were crazy, running up to me and telling me to get out of my car. I mean, if I knew—"

"It's all right," Sam interrupted. "I would have done the same."

Sirens were then heard in the distance. The police and paramedics must have finally arrived. It had been more than five minutes since Dean had called.

"Let's take you ladies outside," he suggested.

Sam helped Jamie to her feet. She looked fragile, broken, and almost forlorn. Sara kept close with her, unsure whether to let Sam support Jamie.

Exiting out of the front door, bright red, blue and white lights overwhelmed the area.

"It's just civilians!" someone shouted.

"Get the paramedics!"

An ambulance and two police cruisers were parked in angles on the empty street.  
A man ran across the front lawn toward the group. "Is everyone all right?" he asked. Dressed up in a black uniform, his expression was anxious.

Sara took Jamie's free arm. "I'll take her," she said.

Sam nodded, watching as the paramedic took the two toward the ambulance. Just as they left an officer began to approach.

"Which one of you was the one that called?" he asked.

Dean waved his hand. "That would be me."

The officer turned his attention toward the eldest. "Want to explain what happened?"

Dean shoved his hand into his coat pocket, pulling out a police badge, letting the officer observe it for a few short seconds. "We were off duty, just passing by the neighborhood," he explained. "We stopped _him_ before he could do anymore harm."

"We don't know the full details," Sam added.

The officer nodded. "I want you two to stick around; I might have some more questions for you." He smiled lightly. "Good work gentlemen, I'd hate to see what might have happened if you two weren't around."

Turning away, he strode toward the two women at the ambulance. Sam and Dean moved away from the front door where two officers entered inside, their hands on the hand grip of their pistols.

Dean glanced at his brother, his face serious, jaw clenched. "What the hell is going on with you, man?"

Taken aback, Sam's brows pulled together. "What are you talking about?"

"Don't play with me, Sam. You know exactly what I'm talking about. You're scaring me, dude."

Sam pursed his lips, his eyes averting his sight away from his brother's. Dean was in the dark, still knowing nothing about his strong vivid dreams, his recent headaches. Sam didn't know how to tell his brother, especially now that his visions and headaches were getting stronger.

After what happened to his girlfriend, Jessica Lee Moore, he vowed that if another person were to die in his visions he would save them before destiny took its toll. However, with this being kept a secret from his older brother, Sam had become mutinous. It didn't surprise him that his brother was bemused of his actions, frightened that he didn't understand what was happening.

Sam's words no longer could be evasive.

Sam looked back at his brother, his stare guilty yet calm. "I can't really explain it, but—"

Before he was able to get a word in, Sara entered the tense atmosphere, unaware she was interrupting a confession Dean was eager to hear but Sam was ready to avoid.

"I just lied to the cops. I said you two were close friends just passing by for a visit. Now I'm asking in a favor." She smiled slightly. "Would you like to explain exactly what happened back there, and who you guys really are?"

Sara cocked up a brow when she realized the sour expression that lay on Dean's face. He shot a glare at his brother then looked away to the distance. He clicked his tongue, frustrated.

Sam looked at his brother for barely more than a second. His attention was immediately brought back on Sara. "We have reasons to believe _he_ was possessed by a demon."

Sara's brows rose again, her expression mocking. "A _demon_? Are you kidding me?"

"How else do you explain the black eyes, the strength and the black smoke?"

"I'd say I was hyped up on mushrooms and tripping out," she answered, "...but since I haven't touched that stuff, there really is no other way for me to explain it." It was ridiculous. A demon of all things? Sam, however, was sincere. He wasn't lying. "A demon...," she tried out the word. It was asinine to think of such a possibility, but how many possibilities or assumptions were there to explain what just happened? "Why would a..._demon_ be after _her_?"

"Honestly, we don't know," Dean spoke up. He was neutral once again.

Looking past Sara, Sam gazed at Jamie, sitting in the ambulance as she was being observed by the paramedic. "How is she?"

Sara looked back also. "Freaked out, not that a blame her. How else would you react to your boyfriend attacking you?"

"Did you know him, personally?"

She brought her sight on Dean, whom had asked the question. "No, not at all. She never mentioned him. I guess they didn't know each other for very long. At least, that's what I assume." Sara inhaled, shifting her feet. "So, these demons, is it your job to go after them or...?"

Dean grinned. "Yeah, it's kind of part of the family business. We hunt anything supernatural we can find—in this case it was a demon."

"Supernatural?" she wondered. "Kind of like Mulder and Scully from _The X-Files_, right?"

Dean grinned, amused. "You watch _The X-Files_?"

She shrugged. "I used to, when it was still airing on TV." Intrigued, Sara continued to ask more. "What kind of supernatural creatures do you look for? Don't tell me you hunt aliens also."

"Nothing like _that_," Sam replied. "More along the lines of ghosts, werewolves...things like that."

"I can believe in ghosts but _werewolves_?" She rolled her eyes. "Soon you'll be telling me unicorns are real."

"That's always a possibility." He sent a crooked smile.

Sara returned it. "Thank you, anyway. I may not know how you knew about the...um, demon, and you probably wouldn't tell me either way, but I'm grateful. Who knows what might have happened in there if you didn't show up."

Dean nodded. "It's our job, it's what we do."

"Interesting choice for a career, I guess." Sara turned her gaze to Sam. "And dude, next time you need a girl to get out of her car, give them a better reason then 'you might be in danger'. That suggestion doesn't exactly encourage us to come out with open arms."

"I'll keep that in mind."

Sara placed her hands into the back pockets of her jeans. "So, no offense, but I hope I won't be seeing you two anytime soon."

Dean smiled. "None taken."

_I'm hoping the complete opposite, though_, he thought. _Finally, one hot chick in Colorado and we got to leave...perfect_.

"Oh, and just a heads up, the cops are going to want to speak with you right after they're done questioning my buddy." Sara gave them one final smile before beginning to walk away.

"Hey, we never got your name," Dean called after her.

She turned her head only. "It's Sara Collins."

"How about your friend?" Sam added.

"Jamie Leslie."

"Sara, can you do us favor?" Dean asked.

At this, she fully turned her body. "What's that?"

"If anything happens, anything at all"—Dean pulled out a piece of paper, scribbled with written ink—"give us a call."

Sara accepted the cell phone numbers. "Sure thing."

"And one more thing, if they ask, we're off duty officers." Dean smiled his white smile, winking.

Sara gave him an odd stare, tilting her head. "Along with demon-chasers, you're con artists too?" She slightly laughed. "I guess they call that multi-talent. But it's the least I can do, I suppose. "

She waved, saying her goodbyes before turning back into her stride.

"I like her." Dean stared after Sara, his gaze averting down to her rear. He winced, a smile plastered on his face, his brows raised.

Sam turned to his brother, smacking his arm lightly. "Considering the situation, it's never in bad taste for you to check out the girls, huh?"

"Well, you have to admit, Sammy, they were good looking girls." Sam only shook his head. "C'mon, am I right? Huh? Huh?" Dean smiled and began nudging him.

"Shut up, Dean."

Sara didn't turn back as she walked away. Ghosts? Werewolves? With what she just saw in the last hour she could only attempt to _barely_ believe their existence and to hear that there was a job to hunt them down just sounded plain crazy. But she couldn't say, being crazy didn't sound so strange anymore.

Jamie sat at the ambulance, a blanket wrapped around her body. A paramedic was just fixing up a slight injury above her right eyebrow. The officer beside her just flipped closed his notepad when Sara approached.

"I'll let you know if we have anymore questions," he said before walking away.

"How is everything?" Sara asked the paramedic.

"Just minor cuts and bruises, she won't need to take a trip to the hospital."

Sara nodded. "That's good to hear."

"I'll give you two some time." The paramedic retracted away.

Sara took a seat beside Jamie, folding her hands onto her lap, the piece of paper folded within her grasp. "You okay?"

Jamie stared down at the floor, her eyes glazed over. "I just wanted to break up with him, just because I thought he was getting controlling. David lost his life because...I don't even know the reason. Sara, who are those men?"

Sara looked up, watching in the distance as the officer was asking questions toward the brothers. "Anything but the enemy. They told me David was possessed by a demon."

"Sara—"

"I know what you're thinking, but they're not insane—at least I don't think so. You saw it too, didn't you? The black eyes? The black smoke?"

"But demons?"

"I don't know." Should she feel naive for believing their words? "But they gave me their number, incase anything like this happens again."

"It won't."

Sara turned to her. "What makes you say that?"

"'Cause demons can't be real..."

"Stranger things have happened."

Jamie and Sara gazed out into the distance, watching as Dean lifted a hand as a goodbye gesture to the officer while Sam pulled back what looked to be a police badge. The two entered inside a black Chevrolet Impala that was parked on the side of the street. The burst of the engine echoed in the silence of the quiet night, lowering at the distance as they drove down the street and turned the corner, disappearing from view.

"Strange things can usually be explained."


	4. Ill Prospect

_Omg, long fricking chapter, I will never do anything so long again. My eyes hurt from editing. So, I've been watching season four of Supernatural, and I've got to say it's going to be a good season. The new episodes are great inspiration for this story._

* * *

**Chapter Three: Ill Prospect**

The rain poured down like needles on the blades of green grass. It was a gloomy day, appropriate enough for the date. Today marked the day of David Lucas Perry's funeral. A throng stood around the grave: aunts, uncles, cousins and grandparents. Some were crying, others extremely quiet. The minority who were quiet were David's mother, father and two brothers. They stood silent, radiating no emotion.

Sara glanced at them every so often, confused at the fact that they were motionless while their son or brother lay in the glossy wooden casket in front of them.

She, along with Jamie, attended the funeral which took place three days after the incident. An accident of self-defense, the police called it. Jamie stood beside Sara, very silent, even more than usual. Sara came to the funeral more as support to her friend rather than anything else.

Sara Collins took the whole week paid-vacation to keep Jamie from feeling any sense of solitude while she coped. It was the worst time to leave her alone; she wouldn't be a good companion if Sara did the contrary. With staying longer than she thought, she called Andy to inform him. He wasn't happy about the situation but he didn't argue. Sara was careful to explain what had happened; she didn't want to worry Andy in any way.

Jamie Leslie had been the same since that fateful night: solitary and silent. Arguments were spoken between the two women about what really happened to David Perry. Jamie was stubbornly cynical about the demon idea despite Sara's refusal that there was no other explanation. Nevertheless, Sara still placed Sam and Dean Winchester's cell phone numbers onto the refrigerator for precautions. Jamie couldn't refuse.

"His parents aren't very responsive," Sara whispered between the priest's declamations.

Jamie glanced over at the group. "Their family was never really close."

Sara nodded her head in understanding. She thought about changing her target in conversation. "Feel free to not answer this, but why didn't you mention David to me?"

Jamie sighed. "It wasn't a serious relationship and we didn't go out for very long. I felt no need to mention it, it wasn't important at the time. And the way he was acting lately—there was no reason to boast about it."

"Hm." Sara didn't know what else to say to that, she did comprehend Jamie's reasoning. Quiet again, Sara turned her attention back on the priest.

"Let God guide this young man to the gates of Heaven where all his sins will be forgiven. May you rest in peace," the priest spoke. "Our Father..."

"Who art in heaven...," everyone continued to say, placing their palms together in prayer.

The two women kept their hands down. Neither of them was faithful to any variety of religion. They merely watched as the group said the Our Father.

Slowly, the wooden casket began to lower down into the grave as the prayer continued. Jamie stepped forward, the bouquet of flowers in her hands slightly trembling. She dropped the bouquet into the grave, where it landed onto the surface of the casket.

When the prayer was concluded, everyone at the funeral began departing. Jamie stood in front of the grave, silently sulking. Sara gazed at her, her brows furrowed with worry. What was she to say? She couldn't imagine what emotions were bottling up inside her at that moment.

Sara placed a hand on Jamie's shoulder, squeezing it affectionately. "Jamie, you okay?" It was a stupid question, Sara had to admit, but there was nothing else she could ask. She was concerned about Jamie; she wouldn't be staying a week from home if she wasn't.

Jamie looked away from the grave, her eyes averting to Sara's. They glistened in the lack of sunlight, red all around the iris. Staring back to the ground, she nodded her head, slowly, to answer the question. "I just want to go home."

"C'mon." Sara placed her arms around her, leading her toward her parked vehicle. "We'll relax at your place and if you want I'll make some soup. We can watch old movies all night. What do you say?"

The corner of Jamie's lips twitched, forming into half a smile. "Distractions sound so good right now."

It continued to rain throughout the week, not a single peek of the sun was seen. The skies were bleak, the roads wet, no child inside went out to play.

Sara gazed out of the window, observing the droopy environment outside. She skewed her eyes in order to see each individual rain droplet.

No longer did the two speak about David Perry and the demon possession. Out of respect, Sara did not mention it once, maybe that way the mending part after the dramatic event would heal faster. However, the elapsing time was cobbling Jamie. She seemed to smile a little more each day, but they were empty expressions of emotion. Sara tried not to approach the subject, afraid to make matters worse for her. Instead, she held her cool, sarcastic humor to encourage Jamie to act her old self and to be happy once again. But that would take days, weeks for things to be forgotten.

Sara turned her head away from the window, looking down at her pink watch buckled on her left wrist. It was past four o'clock. The two had lost track of time.

"Hungry?" Sara asked.

Jamie took her eyes away from the movie giving on her television screen. "A little."

"I'm in the mood for gross, greasy fast food. How about you?"

Jamie shrugged, her attention immediately back on the movie. "Sure. There's a Wendy's across the park a few blocks from here." Absently, she began stroking the head of Buster, whom lay sprawled at the foot of her sofa.

Sara pulled herself from the couch, stretching out the tightness in her muscles. "I'll get it since you appear lazier than me. What do you want?"

"Cheese burger, fries, whatever."

"Your enthusiasm is suffocating." Jamie laughed a little making Sara smile. She grabbed her coat from the hanger. "Do you have an umbrella I can borrow?"

Sitting up from her laid back position, Jamie stared at her sternly. "You're not walking in the rain, are you?"

"If it's just across the park, then why not? Gas is expensive. I'm not wasting it on a mere few blocks."

Jamie lay back again. "Cheap."

"Says the one I'm buying lunch for," Sara retorted. "Now where's the umbrella-ella-ella-eh—"

Interrupting Sara's rendition of the song _Umbrella_ by the songstress, _Rihanna_, Jamie answered. "It's in the closet by the front door, Rihanna."

"—Eh-eh, under my own umbrella!" Sara sang, entering into the foyer and pulling an umbrella from the closet's depths. "I'll be back quick times."

Sara stepped out, opening up the umbrella and looming it over her as the rain poured down. She pursed her lips in protest, throwing the hood from her hoody over her head and tightening her brown leather jacket. Looking both ways, Sara quickly crossed the street toward the neighborhood park. A place normally filled with screaming, delightful children, had become empty because of the heavy rainfall. She felt her shoes sink in the muddy grass with each step she took. She grimaced at the squishy sound, gritting her teeth when she stepped into a puddle, her left sneaker drenched. It was sickeningly cold when the water seeped through her sock.

"Lovely," she muttered sarcastically.

Sara continued on, passed the set of swings when she felt the wind become stronger. She heard the movement of the swings' chains caused by the sudden breeze. The sound briefly brought up some nerves considering it was a recognizable noise heard from many horror flicks she had watched in the past. It was extremely quiet, there was nobody around and now she began hearing noises other than the chains. She turned her body, switching her vision from the playground, to the walkway and trees. There was not a figure near and Sara shook her head, disappointed with herself. Turning back, Sara wrapped her arms around her, the umbrella squished between her body and arms, as she felt the temperature lower.

Another noise broke the silence. Sara perked up her ears, her senses heightened to hear another strange noise that followed right after the one before. Paranoia struck through her, causing her to spin right around and observe the area once again. She had a strange feeling about the place, almost as if she was being followed. But, again, there was nothing there. Not one sign of life.

Sara rolled her eyes. "Sara, seriously, you're losing your mind," she whispered to herself.

Continuing forward, Sara stopped abruptly when she heard the whisper of her own name. She turned back at that instant.

A young woman stood at a far distance from her, smiling a sadistic smile. The woman giggled. Her laugh seemed to contain no humor but amusement. Sara turned away and began walking faster. The woman slightly freaked her out and considering her surroundings, she wanted to be anywhere but here. The laughing from the girl became a whole lot audible, almost as if it were projected by a microphone. Before Sara knew what she was doing, she looked behind her to see if the woman was still there. The area was clear once again, the woman was no longer standing at the distance. Sara wondered if the woman was only a figment of her imagination. It was quiet once again besides the continuous rain. Sara took one final observation behind her before turning back forward.

Sara stopped instantly. A figure stood in her way, a figure of a man. Frozen with uncertainty, Sara stared up at him with eyes wide.

The man smiled, his head tilted to the side. He appeared to be in his mid-twenties, his short ember hair blowing slightly in the wind.

Instinct told her run, to turn away, get the hell out of there. Fearfully, Sara turned around to run the other direction, however she ceased her steps. The woman was there again, with that same sadistic grin.

"Where do you think you're going, sweetheart?"

Sara turned back to the man, her grip on the umbrella tightening so much her own knuckles were turning white.

The man's smile widened. He closed his eyelids for a second before opening them again. His pupils had dilated, turning ebony black, engulfing the colour of his once grey irises.

Sara's jaw dropped opened. Those were the same eyes that David had. Were those the eyes of a demon? She didn't want to take any chances. Whether he was a demon or not, Sara still had no reason to trust the man. With his ebony eyes as her evidence, she assumed he was another creature from Hell. How she wished she had the Winchester's cell numbers at that instant.

She took a step back. "Shit...," she cussed, "not you _things_ again, what do you want from us?"

The demon took a step forward. "It's not what we want; it's what _he _wants to do with _you_."

"Stay back! I'm warning you!"

Ignoring her threat, the demon continued forward. At that moment, Sara turned back once again. Running off sounded like the best deal, especially since the girl was at a far distance. Dodging her would be the easiest thing Sara would have to do. But as she turned around, the woman who was standing a far distance a second ago, now stood in front of her. Sara's eyes widened with disbelief.

The woman's orange hair blew in the wind, revealing her black demon eyes. She placed a finger to her lips. "Shhh..."

Suddenly, a hand was placed over Sara's mouth, an arm wrapped around her in a lock. Sara dropped her umbrella, crying out under the demon's hand. Instinctively, she rammed her elbow violently into the man's stomach behind her. The demon let her go.

"Back off!" she shouted.

The woman quickly threw a punch across Sara's cheek and another into her gut. These had to be the most painful hits Sara had ever taken, more powerful than a mere human can throw. She felt like she was about to throw up.

"This could have been so much easier for you, if you just complied."

Sara was thrown to the ground when one of them kicked her in the ribs. She recoiled in pain.

"Are you going to sit still, like a good little girl?" The woman knelt down beside her, placing a hand on her shoulder blade. A burning sensation filled Sara's back. She cried out. The woman's smile widened. "Here's something to remember us by."

"Missy."

The woman stopped, looking up at the male demon that addressed her. "What?"

"Cops..."

The woman, Missy, looked toward the side streets, pursing her lips in disappointment. "Aw, that's no fun."

A police cruiser, which had been driving by, quickly yielded. An officer and his partner stepped out of the vehicle in alarm. "Hey!" they shouted.

"We need to go," the male demon said sternly.

"What about the girl?"

"Leave her; we have more opportunities to deal with her privately."

Before Sara knew it, the two demons began running, the orange hair the only thing Sara could see through the rain. She could barely move, barely hold herself to keep consciousness. Sara couldn't tell whether any bone was broken, couldn't tell if she was bleeding internally or externally. She had no idea. The pain was suffocating, making her ignore her other senses that alerted her about the solution that had arrived, the two police officers that ran to help her.

Sara closed her eyes when her vision began to blur, to force them to refocus again. She opened them. For a second, it worked, but the blur and the dizziness returned shortly after.

"Ma'am? Ma'am?" An officer tried to create contact but Sara was too concentrated in bringing back her focus rather than listening to anyone. "Richards, get an ambulance down here and back up to look for those two suspects."

"Okay." The officer began retreating back to the police cruiser to communicate through the radio.

"Ma'am, you're going to be all right. We're getting an ambulance to come by to take you straight to the hospital."

Sara wasn't hearing it; she was too frustrated in keeping her eyesight leveled that she hadn't realized the man by her side. Not only was her vision blurry and out of balance, but she began seeing little black dots, and at every blink she took, they got bigger. The sound of rain pouring down sounded distant now, Sara wondered if she was dying, or merely just about to pass out. Before she realized what was what, black overclouded her vision and she could no longer hear anything.

**--**

Jamie tossed the yellow tennis ball across the living room again, watching Buster run to go fetch it. She tapped the cordless phone, which lay in her hand, against her chin continuously, thinking.

Sara hadn't comeback, and Jamie couldn't figure out how long it's been, except that she should have been back a while ago. She tried calling, texting, anything, but there was never an answer or reply. Worried was an understatement, Jamie was suffering through strengthening concern.

Buster walked back towards its owner, ball in between his teeth. Dropping the ball to the floor, the dog rested his head on Jamie's lap, noticing her lowering mood.

With one hand, Jamie began dialing Sara's number again while the other stroked Buster's head. She listened to it ring when suddenly the doorbell rang. Bursting with relief, Jamie jumped on her feet and ran to the door. Immediately her expression fell when she realized it wasn't Sara at all.

Two police officers stood tall before her, their arms folded behind their backs. It doesn't take a genius to realize something had gone wrong.

"Are you Jamie Leslie?"

"Yes. Is everything all right?"

"Do you have any connections to Sara Collins?"

Jamie's face paled, her expression startled. "What happened?"

"There was an accident. She was attacked."

"Is she okay? Where is she?" Her questions were frantic.

"It's okay, Ms. Leslie, Sara was sent to the local hospital where she is being treated."

"Take me there, please." Jamie requested urgently, her heart already beating very quickly.

The officers gazed at her look of apprehension, recognizing the urgency in her voice. One of them sighed. "Very well."

"Thank you. Just let me get my keys."

Jamie jogged away from the door in a hurry toward her living room. She opened the side door to let Buster out, locking it after him before going to the kitchen. She grabbed her keys that lay dormant on the kitchen counter. As she walked by, passed the fridge, she slowed to an immediate stop. She glanced at its exterior, her eyes trailing to the piece of paper hanging by one magnet. Jamie could recall the memory of Sara placing the numbers on the fridge.

"_I'm placing this here, and don't you dare take it down. I'm not saying demons are real, because of course that's ridiculous—from your point of view. But give them a chance, Ms. Skeptical. We don't know if this won't happen again."_

Jamie prayed for this to never occur again. But how was she to know that Sara's attacker—dare she say it—was a demon? Something inside her whispered that there was a connection. It could be a false alarm if she called, but if it wasn't, it was only a matter of time until the demons would comeback to finish them off. Sara was possibly in bad condition with one attack; Jamie wasn't going to give them a second chance to hurt her.

She pulled the piece of paper away from the fridge, stuffing it inside her pocket and she ran to the front door.

The officers took her without a word to the hospital they said Sara was being withheld. Jamie had been sitting in the backseat of the cruiser, thoughtful for the entire drive. One of the officers saw the worry on her face, and tried to reassure her everything was going to be okay. They said they would find the attackers. Jamie only listened but did not answer them. There was nothing she could say that would give a positive result.

Everything couldn't be okay. Sara was in the hospital, hurt. There was nothing that could make that okay.

Hours later, Jamie was pacing back and forth inside the white waiting room. She called once she got to a payphone at the hospital. She had been waiting for hours, for the guys and for the doctor to just speak to her. Her heart was beating rapidly and she had no way of calming it down. The officers told her not to worry, but it was difficult not to when she realized that they were not telling her the whole truth about Sara's condition, in order to keep her from panicking. But Jamie wasn't stupid and she knew the truth. She wanted to know how serious it really was.

"Jamie!"

She looked up when addressed, watching as two men ran toward her. She felt a great sense of relief along with the feeling of security when she recognized their young faces. They had not changed since the first time she saw them. She could already decipher who was who. Sam was the taller one, the one with the longer dark brown hair. Dean was the much shorter of the two, his short brown hair was lighter than Sam's, probably tinted with the blond he inherited from one of his parents.

"We got here as fast as we could," Sam informed.

Dean reached his side. "Is she okay?"

Jamie could not tell how far they might have been when she called. She might have been skeptical, but all suspicions seemed insignificant at the moment. The concern marked on their faces was reassuring and made her wonder whether she need not be so assertive towards assumptions. Jumping into conclusions didn't seem necessary now that they were here in order to keep Sara and her safe; after all, they have saved Jamie's life from David's strange act of violence toward her.

However, after all thoughts and Jamie realized she was asked an important question, she frowned. "I don't know. They won't let me see her yet."

"What happened?" Sam asked in a subtle voice.

Jamie sighed, crossing her arms over her chest and gazing at the floor tiles. "She was attacked." As silly as it may have been, Jamie felt responsible. She let Sara go out in the rain, didn't lift a finger to suggest she come with her, maybe then there might have been a chance of no confrontations with the attacker. Jamie didn't know what to think anymore. Was she better off to have stayed at home or would she have been worse if she went with Sara?

Dean's brows furrowed. "What? By who?"

Jamie shook her head with the lack of knowledge she knew on the situation. "I—I really don't know."

Before another word could be put in, a doctor entered the room. All conversations aside, Jamie's attention stuck to the man, immediately recognizing him as the doctor who has been treating Sara. Washed away from doubt and gaining hope, Jamie approached the doctor instantly, Sam and Dean following right after, curiosity motivating the two forward.

"How is she?" The question had slipped out of Jamie's mouth before any thought.

The doctor, who had been conversing with the receptionist, turned. He recognized Jamie as Sara's close friend who had been in the hospital for many hours waiting for some good news. He adjusted his glasses before answering. "She's not in a too serious, critical condition—just a few bruises, slight lacerations. All she needs is a good rest and to take it easy for a couple of days."

"Can we see her?" Dean inquired before Jamie could.

The doctor sighed. "Seeing your concerned faces, I guess I can't stop you." He smiled slightly. "I'll lead you to her room."

It was quiet during the walk there, excluding the whispers Jamie could hear behind that were being exchanged between the two men. She couldn't help but eavesdrop and find that things they were saying didn't sound so ridiculous anymore. The word "demon" was said a lot through their conversation.

The doctor then stopped in front of a white door. "Well, here's the room. I recommend you call in a nurse or me if she wakes up. She could go into a state of panic because of the unfamiliar atmosphere."

"She's asleep?"

"Unconscious to be exact, had been since she was brought in. The rest will do her some good though." The doctor turned the doorknob, opening the door for the three.

Jamie entered in first with haste, wanting so badly to see Sara's condition rather than hear it first hand.

Sara lay atop a bed, sheets over her body and hooked up to a heart monitor, the steady beeps were her measured heartbeats. Jamie bit her lip when she saw the change of colour on certain areas of Sara's face. There was a dark purple and blue bruise just underneath her left eye, on her cheekbone. Her lip was split open.

She was sure there were more injuries around her body.

"Take as long as you like." The doctor closed the door behind Dean and Sam, going about his business.

Jamie took a step forward, her eyes never leaving Sara's face. She inhaled a shaky breath, placing a hand over her mouth. "Sara, my God, I shouldn't have let you go off by yourself. This is my fault."

Sam stepped toward Jamie, placing a hand on her shoulder. "This isn't your fault, don't pin the responsibility on you."

"I already have..."

The time elapsed as Jamie sat there on the chair beside the bed, waiting for Sara to wakeup, but there was no lift of her eyelids. Dean and Sam stood by her, in hopes of comfort, support and even protection. She deafened her ears when they spoke to one another about the situation, she couldn't hear the word "demon" anymore. She thought of it enough for the past hours. In fact, Jamie began losing track of time. So confined in her thoughtful mind, she didn't realize how long she had been sitting there, waiting. She was growing tired, begging for her eyelids to not betray her and shut. However, it was long before Jamie noticed she had already fallen asleep.

"It's quiet out there," Dean mentioned as he stared out the window into the black night. "I don't think we will be expecting any visits."

"Do you really think this could be another demon attack?" Sam asked.

He had no earlier premonitions of the two women this time, he was certain they would be safe from now on, but it was no longer likely. Sam was worried, now he couldn't be prepared for what would happen next.

Dean leaned away from the window. "Maybe." He turned his attention to the bed, to Sara's sleeping figure. "If they were, they beat her down pretty bad. Poor girl, she probably got those injuries for fighting back."

Sam sighed, rubbing his eyes. "What time is it?"

"Almost two in the morning."

Sam glanced over at the chair by Sara's bed, seeing that Jamie had already drifted off. "Jamie seems really exhausted; maybe we should take her home."

"Take my car." Dean pulled out his keys and threw them to his little brother. "I'll stay here incase Sara wakes up. She'll be able to tell us if it was a demon this time too."

Nodding, Sam shoved the keys inside his pocket. He made his way to the chair, kneeling down to shorten his height. "Jamie," he whispered, placing a hand on her arm. "C'mon, I'll take you home, you can sleep comfortably there."

Jamie couldn't open her eyes and she decided not to persist. She could barely pay attention to what Sam was saying that all she could do was mumble: "Okay."

There wasn't enough exertion for Jamie to use to be able to walk downstairs and toward the black Impala sitting, parked on the parking lot. Sam decided to let her sleep. He hesitated at first as he slid his arms underneath her and lifted Jamie up with not an ounce of difficulty. He made his way to the door.

"If I see one scratch on that car—"

Sam rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, I know."

Dean pursed his lips as he left the door. "You better know," he mumbled to himself.

Instinctively, he replaced Jamie's seat.

A few odd stares here and there but they ceased away once Sam had gotten through to the exit. Searching for the Impala proved quite difficult when it was pitch black outside, but when Sam saw the glistening of the metal rims, he recognized it immediately. It took a few tries before Sam could get the key inside the passenger door to unlock it, but once the mission was accomplished, he laid Jamie on the passenger seat, buckling on her seatbelt. Closing the door, he went to the driver's side. Sam lowered the volume as Dean's mullet rock music began engulfing the silence when he turned on the car and reversed out of the parking lot.

Dependent on his memory, Sam followed the roads he remembered in order to get to Jamie's neighborhood street. A couple of turns were missed but eventually he found the street sign.

When Sam stopped the Impala at the side of the road, Jamie began to wake up, yawning and rubbing her eyes. It took her a moment to realize where she was. She looked at her house ahead.

_I must have fallen asleep at the hospital._

She breathed in sharply and looked over at Sam before slightly smiling. "Want to come in for coffee?" she suggested awkwardly.

Sam grinned in return. "Sure."

The two exited the vehicle and entered the house.

"Make yourself at home," Jamie inquired as she walked toward the kitchen.

Sam took a seat at the sofa, feeling at a little unease. He didn't understand why at first, and he wasn't quite interested to find out.

"So, you and Dean, are you brothers?" Jamie questioned as she walked into the room, feeling more energized.

"Uh, yeah."

"Speaking of Dean, where is he?"

"He decided to stay back at the hospital, you know, just incase Sara wakes up."

"I have to thank you for coming down here." She took a seat across from him on a sofa chair. "I was scared out of my mind; I didn't know what to do. I'm glad Sara saved your number. To be honest, I'm still a little skeptical about this demon business."

Shrugging, Sam smiled slightly. "That's not really surprising, I mean, you've probably learned to believe that what we...hunt—as in ghosts or demons—are utterly imaginative and don't exist in this world."

"I can't say I'm so sure ghosts don't exist but I have to say that demons sound sketchy to me. Sara tried to convince me on the subject."

"She's more of a believer, huh?"

"More on the fact that she is looking for something to blame on all things terrible and or unexplainable on this earth."

"That's understandable. So, her thoughts are what convinced you to call us?"

"Yes and no. I was afraid of believing that demons are real that I called you two to prove that what happened to Sara had nothing to do with a demon, it was just a freak accident. Plus, I guess, since you have saved us once, I felt safer if you guys were here again."

Sam and Jamie locked gazes for a moment at her confession. However, Jamie broke the lock, standing up abruptly.

"I'll check if the coffee's done."

Sam nodded, watching her movements as she left the room. He slouched in his seat. He could only imagine what Dean could be thinking in his absence.

**--**

Besides an awkward check up by a nurse, it was fairly quiet in the room. Dean began rubbing his chin as he gazed into Sara's face. She was lucky it hadn't begun to swell.

There wasn't any proof that this was a demon attack but Dean's gut instinct said otherwise. The question was: what does this demon—or demons want? A possibility would be for the demon to change hosts, but what was so special about these women? It was likely that demons had an attraction to wanting an appealing host; however, Dean wasn't so sure. Demons possessed humans that were emotionally distressed or had an addiction, a human that had some sort of weakness.

Dean stood from his seat, walked to the window and looked out. He half-expected to see some sort of movement out there, or some sort of existence. There was neither.

He turned back to the bed, the moonlight behind him brightening Sara's face. Dean furrowed his brow when he noticed something. He stepped forward, leaning down as he observed Sara's face. There was an imprint on her bruised cheek. Probably caused by a ring on the fist of the attacker, but it appeared to be a strange symbol, somehow familiar.

Dean brought his fingers to the imprint when he suddenly pulled back from the flicker of Sara's eyelids.

Eyes opened wide, they darted from left to right. She was breathing heavily, startled. She jolted up right, her body shaking, becoming panicky.

"Sara." Dean placed a hand on her shoulder.

"No, don't!"

Sara didn't know who was speaking to her and she immediately slapped the hand away. She attempted to stand up.

"Sara, calm down!" Dean said, trying to hold her. The heart monitor connected to her began to beep wildly. Her heartbeat was beating at a frightened rate. "It's just me!"

Sara slowed her defiant movements, finally gazing into Dean's face. Her expression changed from fear to confusion. She recognized him with a startled realization. "Dean?" she said. "What are you doing here? Where am I?" Her eyes began darting around again.

Dean grinned in spite of himself. "You remember me," he said in a boastful voice.

"Where am I?" Sara asked again. "What are you doing here back in Colorado?" At least she hoped she was Colorado. She wasn't so sure.

Expression now serious, Dean answered. "You're in the hospital. Jamie called us down, she was worried about you."

Sara sighed. "Sounds like Jamie." Absently, she began rubbing her forehead. She felt a pulsing pain. "Man, I have the worst headache right now, feels like I've been hit by a bus."

"Want me to call in the doctor?"

"No!" Sara said suddenly. Recognizing Dean's sudden draw back from her rash hysteria, Sara calmed. "No doctors, I can't stand doctors."

Dean gave a nod in understanding, sitting back down on the chair. "Okay, no doctors."

"Thank you," Sara whispered and leaned her back against the head board of the bed. "How long have I been out?"

"A while."

Sara closed her eyes, inhaling.

"Jamie said you were attacked. Do you remember anything?"

She nodded. "There were two of _them_ this time. Their eyes were pitch black and their punches were extra painful than what could be considered normal. I'm sure they left a beautiful mark on my face."

Dean grinned slightly. "They sure did." Sara only smiled. "Do you remember what they looked like—what they wanted?"

"The girl—all I can remember is her orange hair, her name started with an 'M' or something."

"And the other one?"

"A man."

Dean was silent.

Sara frowned, and felt her paranoia return just like it had been when she was walking in that secluded park. "They're...they're still out there, aren't they?"

"Unless the cops know how to do my job, then, yeah, they're still out there."

Sara furrowed her brow in worry.

"Don't worry about a thing. Sammy and I are here now. We'll protect you." Dean sent a charming smile.

"Where are Sam and Jamie?"

"Sam went to take Jamie home. I can't tell what's going on there though, but I'm sure Sammy has it under control."

--

Sam didn't understand why he was feeling uncomfortable around Jamie. It couldn't be her attractive features, as beautiful as she was. That, he knew for sure. And it wasn't like Jamie was hinting at any attraction she had to him. It had something to with the way she mentioned the sensation of feeling safe with Dean and him being around. Sam knew this uncomfortable feeling had to do with Jessica Moore's death, but he avoided the connection. Jessica felt safe whenever Sam was sleeping beside her at night, but that one night, that one night he wasn't there...Sam stopped the thoughts from escalating.

Jamie returned to the living room with a tray of two coffee mugs and a bowl of sugar. She placed it on the glass coffee table.

"Thank you."

She nodded. "We'll need it."

Jamie took a seat beside Sam, curling her legs underneath her. It was silent for a moment. Sam looked for a thing to say, but from the lack of information he knew about Jamie, Sam had no way of starting a conversation.

"Does your job ever get tiresome?"

Jamie had been the one to break the ice. It was strange really; it was like the same sensation as being on a first date with a person you barely knew.

"What do you mean?" Sam asked, wondering about the meaning of her question.

Jamie looked up at him from her warm mug in her hands. "You travel a lot to hunt, right? Don't you ever want a normal life?" Sam looked away from her, thinking. "I don't mean to pry, I was just—I don't want to butt in your business or anything."

Samuel was still thoughtful as she spoke. He always wanted a normal life, that's why he left, that's why he ran off to Stanford and stayed away from his family for almost two years. But he realized that staying away from who he was was absolutely impossible.

Parting his lips, Sam was ready to answer. Unfortunately, canine barks erupted through the silence from the side door that led to the backyard. The two craned their necks to the door.

Jamie clicked her tongue. "I should bring Buster inside, he must be hungry."

She stood from her seat, placing the mug of coffee back on the tray.

A loud crash interrupted Jamie's movements suddenly. Buster's cry followed shortly after. A cry of agony, it sounded. The same squeak dogs made if you stepped on their tail or paw, or even worse.

Reluctant, Jamie questioned the sounds. Strange it might have been, but there was nothing that was stopping Jamie from walking toward the door.

"Buster?"

Sam had already jumped to his feet in caution. Something wasn't right. That cry wasn't normal.

"Jamie, wait!"

She already opened the door before he reached behind her. Jamie froze, stunned, her eyes wide, her heart breaking.

"Jesus Christ...," Sam whispered in response, awestruck.

The body of Buster hung from a noose, mutilated; swaying from the wooden branch of a tree it hung from. Into the bark of the tree, a message was engraved, carved deeply with a possible blade:

_New friends can't save you_

Taking Jamie's arm, Sam pulled her behind him.

"Jamie, get back inside."

**--**

"Did the doctor ever say how long I was going to be locked up in here?" Sara asked, already feeling trapped as she adjusted herself on the uncomfortable mattress.

Dean grinned. "You really don't like hospitals, do you?"

"Is it that obvious?" Sara retorted sarcastically. Shrugging, Dean leaned back on his chair. Sara sighed. Her headache hadn't improved and she was so close to losing her mind. "Do you have any idea what these demons want, for the sake of the changing the subject?"

Resting his elbows on his thighs, Dean leaned away from the backrest of the chair. "I have a theory."

"I'm listening."

"For low-class demons to enter this world they need to control someone, a human being. Kinda like needing protected armor. Demons are very careful who they choose."

"So, it's kind of like _The Exorcist_, a demon possessing a normal human, right?"

"Sort of, minus the spinning heads and projectile vomit. Anyway, demons search for an attractive host, mostly the females, but until they find that one host, they might possess a temporary one."

"Why an attractive human?"

"It's kind of like a bullet proof vest, you know what I mean?"

"Okay, so what does that have to do with me?"

"Maybe one of the demons wanted _your_ body...as a permanent one."

Sara sent him a careful stare. "If I didn't know any better, Dean, I'd say you were hitting on me."

Dean only returned a charming smile. "Is it working?"

"That's very flattering, considering that I probably look like shit right now, but—"

"Ah, so there's a _but_."

Sara continued. "—But I already—"

A guitar riff had interrupted Sara's sentence. Dean pulled out his mobile phone from his back pocket, looking at the call display.

"It's Sam," he informed, flipping open his phone.

Sara could hear a slight voice from the speaker but she could not make out what Dean's brother was saying. She only watched as Dean's smug face formed into a very serious expression from what he was hearing on the other line.

"Where are you now?" Dean listened before speaking again. "Did you check if you were being followed?...Keep an eye on Jamie then...Yeah, I'll stick here with Sara just incase they pay a visit here too...You should know me by now Sammy, I come prepared." Dean began feeling for something inside his jacket before pulling his hand away. Dean was silent again, listening. He then hung up his phone.

Hearing the words that were spoken, Sara became anxious to know what had just occurred. "What's wrong? What happened?"

"It appears someone left a...message for your friend."

"A message? I'm afraid to ask this...but what kind of message?"

Dean inhaled before answering. "Jamie's dog was found dead hanging from a tree in her backyard, and a note was carved into the tree."

Sara was now at the edge of her seat. "My God..."—Sara placed a hand over her mouth—"What did it say?"

"_New friends can't save you_," he answered casually, repeating the message accordingly.

Sara's eyes widened. "New friends...Where are they? Are they safe?"

Dean stood from his seat, striding toward the window. "They're fine. They're staying at a motel."

"What do we do now?"

Dean turned back toward her. "Sam stays with Jamie, I stay with you. We both keep you safe through the night."

It was impossibly difficult for Sara to fall back to sleep even considering how late it was. However, as she looked toward the side of her bed, where Dean sat in his chair, she observed his closed eyes, his steady breathing. He had drifted off.

Sara sat up, wondering how he could just fall asleep at a time like this. Dean probably had many reasons, none that Sara cared to know. All she cared about now was the pain and growls coming from her stomach. Hunger had struck her unexpectedly. Biting her lip, Sara thought if it would be smart to just get up and leave to grab some food.

_I'll only be gone for a few minutes_, she thought to herself.

Sara stood up silently, disconnecting the heart monitor from her body and slipping out of the sheets that laid over her. It hurt to have her weight back on her two legs, her body still ached, pained by the recent hits that she took. The white hospital gown she wore fell down over her knees. She rummaged through the drawers by the bed, searching through the belongings they placed in her room with her. She found her wallet, taking it out. Sara didn't feel the need to wake Dean up, especially on the fact that he probably traveled many miles on the road to get back to Colorado. Sara slipped out of the door, looking either way. Spotting a vending machine at the end of the hall just by the elevator, she began walking to that direction. She limped at each step, placing her hand on the wall for support. It hurt to breathe, it hurt to move. Sara couldn't feel any positive sensation throughout her body. Ignoring the pain, she approached the machine, already entering her money and picking a Hershey's Milk Chocolate Bar. Sara winced as she bent to grab the bar that fell toward the opening.

The hall lights began to flicker.

Sara ceased, standing straight. She turned her head, looking behind her. The hall was still silent and empty. Eventually, the lights did return to normal. Sara studied the hall for a moment before returning to retrieve her chocolate bar.

Suddenly, a gust of wind blew past Sara. She stopped all movements. The temperature had dropped also, from what Sara could tell. Out of precaution, Sara stood straight again. She turned around to make sure that everything was still as it seemed.

Her eyes widened as she took sight of what she saw. Sara's heart skipped a beat.

"Hello again."

Sara tried to scream for Dean but a hand had already struck at her neck, keeping a strong hold and cutting off her oxygen.

"You've been getting a lot of help lately, huh, sweetheart? It wasn't very smart to leave your room, now was it?"

Staring into the eyes of the demon that attacked her earlier, she felt herself being lifted from the floor. Sara couldn't kick at him, let alone pry his hand out of his grip. She was running out of time, and she had no idea what to do.

"Take this you demonic sonofabitch!"

Before Sara knew it, she was dropped to the floor. She held onto her neck, her body fragile from the impact to the ground. The demon cried out, his body strangely steaming just like David's had done. Dean stood in front of him, a silver flask in his hand. Dean threw a fist across the demon's face, throwing another toward the opposite side. The demon was thrown back against the wall. Dean ran to Sara's side, helping her stand. She sucked in her breath, tightly closing her eyes as a shock of affliction shot through her limbs.

"Can you stand?"

Sara answered through clenched teeth. "I can try."

Placing her arm around his neck, Dean pulled her weight toward the elevator, pressing the downward arrow button multiple times. The doors drew open and Dean helped Sara inside just as the demon stood away from the wall. Dean began hitting the button to close the doors, attempting to close them before the demon was at arms reach. However, the demon was too close in distance. Dean pulled out the silver flask from within his jacket, spraying the liquid onto the demon once again before the doors closed and the elevator began to move down the floors.

"What the hell did you just throw at him?" Sara asked with disbelief in her words.

"Holy water," Dean replied.

"That's...reasonable."

"We need to get out of here as quick as—" Dean gritted his teeth, remembering. "Shit..."

Sara averted her eyes to him. "What now?"

Dean frowned. "I gave my car to Sam."

Sara frowned in response. "Is there another option?"

Bringing his eyes toward hers, Dean slightly grinned. "I don't think you'll exactly approve of the idea, but there isn't anything else I can think of."

"Trust me; I can accept any crazy idea at the moment. What's the plan?"

"Grand theft auto."

"You're kidding, right?"

The elevator came to an abrupt stop, the doors drawing open to the ground floor.

"I wish I was, sweetheart," he said.

"You can highjack cars too? The things you find out about a guy...," Sara murmured as Dean helped her walk down the narrow hall. "How are we going to get passed security?"

He stopped walking for a moment, thinking. "There's got to be a back door or window somewhere...I think."

--

Sam had sighed with relief when he got off the phone with his older brother. He thought for sure a demon might have gotten to the hospital before he could warn Dean.

It was so odd, really. These demons were after both Jamie and Sara but Sam couldn't see why they were so important to the demon race, especially when they had no idea demons had any existence in this world. The demons couldn't be threatened by these humans that had no logic of this sort of thing.

Sam tried convincing Jamie to get some rest, but she refused at every attempt. The woman was unbelievably upset.

Putting salt on the window sills and doors proved to have left the demons at bay. The demons seemed very resistant that they haven't returned or followed the pair toward the motel.

How long would he have to stay awake until he knew it was safe?

Sam took a seat beside Jamie on the queen sized bed. Her knees were hugged at her chest, her sights on the floor beneath her. Every ounce of her attention was on her thoughts, lost, confined.

Hesitantly, Sam placed his hand on Jamie's back. "Everything's going to be all right. Dean and I will find a way to help you."

"Can you really stop them from hurting anyone else?" Jamie whispered. Her voice was lacking any strength. She hadn't spoken in a while and she didn't try to clear the rasping in her voice.

"We can try."

She licked her lips absently. "How about Sara and Dean? Does he have anything to protect her if there would be another demon attack?"

"You shouldn't worry about Dean. He has a few tricks up his sleeve."

Jamie didn't respond to that, and Sam didn't expect her to. Sam couldn't be sure she was convinced or not, but it didn't matter. Her concern would engulf anything he said to comfort her. So, with that in mind, he tried not to apply too much pressure on her. She needed the time to grieve over the last thing she saw.

**--**

"You need help?"

Sara shook her head slightly. "No, I'm good, I'm good." Dean ignored her response and assisted her in climbing out of the small window frame. "I can't believe we're escaping a damn hospital through a washroom window."

Dean laughed lightly. "Believe me; it gets a lot more worse when you have my job." He placed his hands on her hips, helping her land lightly on the ground.

"Ah—" Sara bit her bottom lip, suppressing anymore cries of angst. This was too much strain on her body, but she didn't want to be the one to slow down their escape. It was still raining outside and the rain that landed on her skin felt good for a moment.

"You okay?"

She nodded her head vigorously, lying through her actions. "I'll live." She held onto the wall behind her, trying to breathe steadily.

"Here." Pulling off his brown leather jacket, Dean placed it over Sara's shoulders. "Put that on."

Sara nodded, sliding her arms through the sleeves. She inhaled, Dean's fresh scent filling her nostrils. "Thanks. I felt naked wearing this damn gown anyway."

"I wish...," Dean muttered.

"What was that?"

"Uh, nothing. C'mon, we better get going." He placed her arm around his neck again, supporting her as she limped.

"Is he following us?"

"I don't know, and I don't really want to stick around to find out."

Sara and Dean approached the parking lot, surveying the area. Dean caught the sights of an old, rusty 1970 Oldsmobile and began leading Sara to that general area. "Hang on for a second," Dean said, letting go his support. He then rammed his elbow against the passenger window, forcing it to shatter. He unlocked the door. "Get in." Dean assisted her inside and ran to the driver's side.

"I'd hate to be the one who owns this car," Sara remarked.

"I don't think they'll miss it too much."

Sparking the two wires together, it took many tries before the vehicle's engine sprung to life. Dean reversed, doing a complete one-eighty to drive out of the parking lot.

Sara continued glancing back, her heart still racing. "I don't see him anywhere."

Glancing back for a second also, Dean returned his eyes back on the road. "Either he gave up or he's waiting." Dean gazed at Sara, her expression anxious. He smiled reassuringly to her. "I won't let him hurt you again."

Sara smiled slightly in return. She turned her sights back in front of her.

Her eyes widen as she gripped her door. "Watch out!"

Dean shot his eyes back on the road, seeing a dark figure stand a mere distance away in front of the vehicle. Narrowing his eyes through the rain, he could see it was the demon again. He pressed his foot further down on the gas pedal. Sara tightly shut her eyes as the front of the car hit the demon. The body rolled over the hood and onto the roof. Dean waited for his body to continue on, but it didn't.

Suddenly, there was a loud impact upon the roof of the car. A repetitive banging sound was heard above the two, the roof denting.

Sara began to tremble, her heart increasing in speed. "Oh my God..."

Dean began swerving the vehicle, hoping to shake the demon off. The roof continued to cave in with every impounding hit.

"Sara, I need you to take the wheel."

She shot her frightened eyes toward him. "What are you going to do?"

Pulling out a loaded pistol, Dean studied the amount of bullets it contained, answering with no words.

"You're going to shoot him...that's definitely inconspicuous," Sara muttered through her fear, taking the steering wheel in her hands.

Dean climbed halfway out of his rolled down window, his foot still on the gas pedal. Instantly, he turned and aimed toward the roof.

Nothing was there.

"Where'd the hell he go?"

"Here's a clue, jackass. Look down."

From beneath the vehicle, the demon returned in sight, throwing a hard fist across Dean's jaw.

In the meantime, out of the parking lot, Sara had steered the car onto public road, swerving through lanes, passing any other vehicles as much as she could.

The demon threw another fist against Dean's face. By reflex, he lifted his foot from the gas pedal, hitting the break with his heel.

The vehicle began skidding to an uncontrollable stop.

"Dean, I can't do this!" Sara shouted as she tried to swerve away from a passing truck. She didn't know if she could miss it in time.

Dean returned back into the vehicle, placing his hands back on the wheel, turning it as far as he could and slamming his foot on the break.

Sara slammed right into him as the vehicle slid to a right turn, the wheels screeching against the wet tar road. The side of Dean's head crashed against the window. Burnt rubber filled the air as the car finally halted. Heavy breathing replacing the screeching tires.

"You all right?" Dean rasped.

Sara pulled herself away from him, her injuries pulsing with pain. "Barely..."

Dean glanced at the rear view mirror. The demon had fallen onto the road, rolling to the side, to a safer distance. The demon stood, brushing off the dirt on his clothing casually as if nothing had occurred. He looked up, staring at their vehicle with narrowed eyes.

"Let's get the hell out of here." Dean slammed his foot on the gas pedal, jerking the car forward.

"This is completely insane," Sara murmured, holding onto her left side.

Driving back in control and looking at the rearview mirror every so often, Dean realized that the demon was no longer at the scene.

He disappeared.

Dean brought his hand to his head, where it made impact with the now slightly shattered window. His vision staggered. He shook his head, hoping to return his focus.

Sara observed Dean's behavior. Was he in any condition to drive?

"Do you want me to drive?" she offered, even though she knew she wasn't in any better condition.

"No, I'm fine."

Sara was not convinced, but what more could she do? She pulled on her seatbelt, closing her eyes, praying for just one hour of peace.

--

The minutes were dragging on. Sam couldn't find a way to make the time go by faster. He grabbed the television remote, turning it on. Sam began surfing the channels, looking for a thing to do until the sun would rise. He finally stopped it at an old movie.

Jamie had not spoken a word for a very long time, which didn't concern Sam, he understood.

However, unbeknownst to him, emotions were bottling up inside her. So much bad luck had happened in a mere few days and it all involved her. Was she cursed? Was anybody even safe around her?

"First it was my boyfriend, and now my dog, all in one week...," she spoke aloud. "I was lucky that Sara was only sent to the hospital. It's as if everyone who knows me is brought toward danger." Jamie gazed up at Sam, her eyes glistening with fresh tears. "You're probably in danger too."

Sam sat beside her once again. "We've experienced danger all our lives, Dean and I grew through it. It's no longer much of a threat." He gave a reassuring smile.

"Wow...that's depressing."

Sam slightly laughed, causing a crack of a smile on Jamie's lips.

Banging on the door immediately interrupted the moment. Jamie jumped.

"Sam! Sam, open up!"

The recognizable voice forced Sam off the mattress. He ran to the door, quickly unlocking it and swinging it open. Sara and Dean stood at the door step, Dean supporting Sara's weight, both drenched from the rain. Their expression held traumatism and frustration.

Sam observed the two, bemused. "Dean?" He studied their attire. They were a complete mess. "What happened?"

Jamie stood when she gazed at the doorway. She ran toward the two, her eyes widening at the sight of Sara. "Are you okay?"

"Never felt better," Sara replied with obvious acidity.

Jamie sent her an apologetic look. "Sorry." She took her other arm, taking away Sara's weight from Dean, and bringing her to the closest bed.

"The sonofabitches are persistent, I'll give them that much," Dean remarked, entering inside the motel room and slamming the door behind him.

"They came to the hospital?" Sam questioned.

Dean took a seat at the small table that stood by the window. "Yeah, it chased us out of there."

"It was the same bastard that attacked me the first time too," Sara added.

"It's probably the same demon that possessed Jamie's boyfriend." Rubbing his hand on the injury on the side of his forehead, Dean felt something warm and wet. He brought his hand toward his view, seeing blood on his palm and fingers.

"I'll go get the first aid," Jamie inquired, running to the washroom.

"Did you salt the windows and doors?"

Sam nodded his head. "Yeah."

Jamie returned with a first aid kit and sat across Dean. "Let me take a look."

Dean dropped his hand from the wound, letting Jamie clean away the blood. She began applying alcohol.

"Ah, sonofa—" He inhaled sharply, tightly shutting his eyes as the wound stung.

Jamie winced. "Sorry."

"Its fine," Dean replied with no intent of making his tone sound unappreciative.

"Did the demon say anything to you? Any idea why they're after Jamie and Sara?"

"No, nothing," Dean answered.

"Actually..." Everyone brought their attention toward Sara. She felt the spotlight on her, but didn't flinch at the pressure. "I remember them saying something to me before...something about a man...I don't know, they said _he_ wanted something to do with us, whatever that means..." Sara's memory was frail and she didn't understand why she could not remember anything of that moment. She assumed it would all return to her soon, though.

"Who's _he_?"

Sara slowly looked up at them. "I have no idea."

Jamie placed a white bandage over Dean's wound. "There you go," she said in a whisper.

"Thanks," Dean replied with gratitude.

Sam then had a thought. "What if someone is controlling the demons?"

"Like a human?" Dean suggested.

"Maybe. Or even another demon."

Unannounced, another stab of pain shot through Sara's body. She cringed, her eyes tightly shut, her teeth clenched. She began panted. She ignored the pain for so long that once she lost her concentration, listening to what the men were saying, the infliction of the earlier occurrences broke through her wall of neglect.

"Sara? What's wrong?" Sam asked with concern, taking a step forward.

She didn't answer.

Getting up from her seat, Jamie ran to her side. Sara held herself, rocking back and forth, waiting for the pain to subside again, like it always had.

"She needs a doctor."

Sam shook his head. "It's too dangerous to take her back to the hospital."

"I'm fine!" Sara inhaled sharply. "I'm fine," she repeated in a more soothing tone.

"We can't just stay here forever. Eventually they _will_ find us," Jamie whispered. "What are we going to do?"

"We stay in this room until sunrise. By then we should have a plan."

The room was silent, before Sara decided to speak up. "You guys don't happen to have a change of clothes do you? This wet hospital gown is getting seriously irritating, and the last thing I need right now is a cold."

"I think I can find something in the car for you," Sam inquired. He grabbed the keys from the table.

"Sam, wait." He turned toward Dean who pulled out the silver flask from his pocket. "Take some holy water with you, just in case."

He nodded, taking the flask in his hands before exiting through the door, closing it behind him. In a matter of minutes, Sam returned unharmed and with a pile of folded clothing.

"The smallest thing I could find was some of Dean's old clothes," he informed.

"It doesn't matter," Sara replied. "Thank you." She attempted to stand up.

Jamie stood on her feet, taking her arm. "I'll help you out."

Sara took the clothing from Sam's hands. "I feel like a damn three year old."

"You need help; you're just too stubborn to admit it."

"Oh, bite me."

Jamie only rolled her eyes, helping her walk toward the washroom.

When Sam knew Jamie and Sara were out of earshot, he turned to his older brother. "Dean, man, I hope you have a plan."

Dean frowned. "I got nothing right now."

"We've got demons on our tail and two women to protect, and you're telling me you have _no_ plan?"

Glaring, Dean replied. "I'm thinking, all right? We have no idea where these demons are, no way to kill them, and you expect _me_ to have a plan?"

"I don't know, man." Sam took a seat at the foot of one of the beds. "It's just—we're in way over our heads here. What are we going to do?"

"Dad would know what to do...," Dean trailed off, thoughtful. "We got two options. We either leave them here to die, or take them with us."

Sam was sympathetic. "Take them where?"

"To find Dad."

"Dean, we've been searching for Dad for months now, and between searching for Dad, we've been working on hunts. We can't do the job and protect them at the same time."

Dean slightly shook his head. "I don't see a third option here."

"What makes you think they're going to come with us willingly? They have lives here; they're not just going to give it all up."

"They die if they stay here, that's reason enough," Dean replied. "I got you to leave Stanford, didn't I?"

"That's because you were worried about Dad and I thought it would only be for a couple of days."

The two became silent for a moment.

"How long do you think will it take to find Dad?"

Dean shrugged. "I don't know."

As the two brothers conversed in secrecy, in the washroom, Jamie was helping Sara out of the hospital gown. Sara closed her eyes tightly, biting her lower lip as the pain rolled back in. Her right shoulder began to burn, like it had when she was attacked. She wondered why it was only that particular spot. As Jamie rummaged through the pile of clothing for a shirt, Sara looked in the mirror. What she saw was horrible. That couldn't be her face; it looked so contorted with wounds. Sara couldn't bear to look at it anymore. She turned, gazing over her shoulder to observe the reflection of her back. Distinctly, she could see a strange burn on her right shoulder blade. She observed closely. The burn was the size of a silver coin, with an inverted pentagram, the face of what looked to be a goat in the pentagram. It was surrounded in a circle, strange little symbols at every point of the pentagram.

Sara could remember seeing this symbol. It was a _Baphomet_, a demonic symbol.

Jamie gazed at her with curiosity. "Sara?"

She jerked away from the mirror. "Yeah?"

"What's that on your back?"

"Nothing."

Jamie furrowed her brow, the lie so obviously false. "Let me see."

Already caught red handed, Sara decided not to resist. She turned around, letting Jamie study the burnt wound.

"Where'd you get this?"

Sara closed her eyes, hearing the voice of the demon woman in her head: _This is something to remember us by._

Jamie stared at how precise the image was. "This is a satanic symbol. A demonic symbol...," she said thoughtfully. "We should tell Dean and Sam about this."

"No, wait!" Sara turned to her. "Please, don't mention a word. They have enough to worry about. It's just a burn, it doesn't really mean anything."

"Sara..."

"Please?"

Jamie stared at her for a long minute, sighing lightly. "Okay, I won't say anything. But if it gets worse I'll tell them, even if you won't."

Sara nodded her head. "Fair enough."

"Now, here, put this shirt on." Jamie pulled the oversized black T-shirt over Sara's head. She helped her pull on the jeans that seemed way too big, yet Sara did not complain. Once settled, Jamie assisted Sara out the washroom door.

The two brothers looked up as they exited.

"Hey, you look good in my clothes," Dean remarked.

Sara slightly laughed despite the tension of the situation. "Thanks. It really shows off my feminine figure, doesn't it?" she replied with irony. The clothing was very loose and baggy on her.

Jamie aided her to the nearest bed.

"You two should get some sleep," Sam suggested.

"What about you two?"

"We'll keep watch tonight and make sure nothing gets to you."

Jamie smiled lightly. "I don't know how to repay you two."

Sam smiled in returned. "Just get some rest. We'll wake you up if anything happens."

She nodded her head.

It took a few hours, but eventually, Jamie was able to fall asleep. With everything that had just happened and running through her mind, she didn't know if she was able to lie dormant. However, in mere minutes she drifted off, listening to the inaudible whispers of Dean and Sam's voices and Sara's slow breathing. The rest would do well for Sara, as the doctor had said. But how long would the two be able to rest? Especially when their lives were threatened by demonic creatures, for all she knew, were outside the door right now.

Jamie didn't dream that night, and she was thankful. For a few nights, after the death of David, she was obtaining nightmares. But every time she woke up startled, she couldn't remember them. This was the first real sleep she had in days.

It only felt like minutes that she had closed her eyes when Jamie woke up. She was proven wrong when she saw the sun peek through the curtains of the windows. She sat up, rubbing her eyes.

"I see you're up."

Jamie searched for the voice, seeing Dean sitting at the table, his feet propped up on the edge. She gazed around the room for a moment. Sara was still lying in bed, sleeping, while she could not find the whereabouts of Dean's younger brother.

"Where's Sam?" she questioned.

"Went to grab some coffee." Dean yawned. "We could use some caffeine right now."

"Did anything—"

Dean didn't let her finish. "No. I don't think the demons came anywhere near the motel," he answered. "But it doesn't mean they don't know where we are."

Jamie stood from the bed, walking toward the window, pulling back the gray curtains. She peered out side, seeing the black Chevy Impala pull up. "At least it finally stopped raining...and Sam's back."

Just then, there was a knock on the door. She unlocked it, greeted with Sam holding a tray of four coffee cups.

"Morning," he said.

Jamie gave a nod in acknowledgement, closing and locking the door behind him.

Sam placed the tray onto the table, Dean immediately taking one. "I didn't know if you girls wanted coffee, but I got you some anyway."

"Thanks." Jamie took a cup of coffee gratefully in her hands. She took a sip, sighing in contentment. "Oh, that's good."

"I see Sara's still asleep."

Jamie shrugged. "She's a sleep all day, party all night kinda girl. She'll be really happy when she sees you bought her some coffee."

Sam slightly smiled. "Um, you know, I saw a breakfast diner not too far from here, I don't know if you want some breakfast but I thought..."

"No, that sounds good," Jamie agreed with the suggestion. "I could go for some pancakes."

"Me too," Dean remarked and he stood from his seat. "We just need someone to wake up sleeping beauty."

It was after Sara woke up that they left toward the diner Sam had spotted only a few miles away from the motel. It was small, compact and crowded for the morning. Fortunately, it was only a matter of minutes before Dean spotted an empty booth, where the brothers and women sat opposite sides. The four waited for the menus.

As people walked by, they threw glances toward Sara, observing the bruise on her cheek, the cut on her lip. Some stared longer than others, catching Sara's attention. She hated the glances; she hated the curiosity and the pity she saw in those strangers' eyes. Sara felt discomfort now. She disliked gaining too much attention. She shifted in her seat, looking away from one of the chefs gazing at her from over the counter.

"Sara?" Dean was the first to realize her nervous behavior. "You okay?"

"Everyone keeps staring at me. Probably thinking I have an abusive boyfriend or something...," she whispered. She caught the eyes of one of the waitresses.

Dean and Sam looked the same way.

Sara brought her eyes down to the table. "Do I really look so awful?" Sara had not seen her reflection since last night, and though what she saw was horrible, it wasn't something to look at for a long period of time.

"They're just being nosy," Jamie replied. "It doesn't look that bad, it'll heal up, you'll see."

Pursing her lips, Sara responded in a slight whisper only toward Jamie. "Wait until Andy sees me. I wonder what he'll think."

"Good morning!" a blonde waitress greeted, placing down a stack of menus on the table. "My name is Wendy; I'll be your waitress for today." She brightly smiled. "Do you guys know yet what you would like to drink?"

"Coffee," Sara answered immediately.

"You just had a coffee," Jamie said.

Sara shrugged and looked up at the waitress. "Coffee," she repeated.

Wendy gazed at her for a long moment, before staggering back into focus. "O-Okay. And you, Miss?"

"Just a cup of water, please."

The waitress gazed at the brothers for an answer.

"Water," they said in unison.

"Three waters and a cup of coffee coming right up." She escaped away.

After a few minutes, the waitress returned with their drinks. Receiving their breakfast orders, she left once again, taking the menus with her.

Dean folded his hands together, leaning against the table. "So, last night, Sam and I took shifts watching for the demon. It was quiet; there was no sign of it anywhere."

"Dean and I don't think it even came near the motel, but it probably still knows where we are, just decided not to make a move," Sam continued.

Dean nodded his head slightly. "We began talking. The only defense we have on a demon is holy water and salt, and if we're lucky, we can place an exorcism on it. But, like Sara said, there are two of them now. An exorcism doesn't necessarily kill them, and if there are two, there's bound to be more."

"So, what are you saying?" Jamie questioned.

Dean glanced at his brother before answering. "You ladies have two options. Our father is a hunter too; he might know how to help you, better than we can. Unfortunately, we're searching for him. Option one: you come with us on a road trip to look for our father, or option two: you stay here. But we can't guarantee the demons won't find and kill you once we're gone."

"Life or death, that's basically our choices," Sara replied. "What about college, our jobs, our homes?"

"You leave it behind," Sam answered. "We don't like it as much as you do, but we don't know how else to help you. At least, if you come with us, we'll be able to watch over you two—keep you safe."

"We didn't know demons even existed," Jamie said in angst. "What the hell do they want from us?"

Sam frowned at her, feeling her anxiety, her anger. "We don't know."

"But our father might," Dean stated.

"Hope you guys weren't waiting too long." Wendy entered back into the atmosphere, holding a couple of plates. She placed the plate of pancakes in front of Dean and another in front of Jamie. "Your breakfast will be up really soon." She sent a bright smile toward Sara and Sam.

"Thanks," he responded.

She gave a nod, and walked away again.

Immediately, Dean began eating his food, while Jamie hesitated, no longer feeling the hunger she obtained earlier.

"How long...," Sara started. "How long have you been looking for your father?"

Sam and Dean exchanged glances. "A while now."

It became silent again, excluding the chatter of the many people around them. Shortly after, the waitress returned with Sam and Sara's breakfast. Sara, however, was also reluctant to begin eating.

The two were just bombarded with the hardest choice. No, it wasn't much of a choice, it was an obligation. If they did not leave with the brothers, they would most certainly die. They would have to give up their home, their jobs, their education for a good future; they would have to give up their life, everything they ever worked hard on.

Sara remembered this realization. It was like that one night, the night her father died in front of her eyes, where her life ended, and she needed to begin a new one at an orphanage, the place where she met Jamie. It was difficult for her then, to get use to the fact her father would never be by her side again, will never embrace her like he always did in the past. Sara had to relive all that again, had to relive leaving everything behind in order to survive.

This was too much for Jamie to take. She lost two lives in one week, almost lost a third if the attack on Sara was not interrupted. Now, she could lose her life if she did not go with the brothers. She was indecisive, even though the choice was pretty obvious. Live or die.

"What do we need to do in order to come with you?" Jamie asked.

Sam dropped his fork in order to answer. "We'll need to get back to your place, grab whatever you need for the trip."

Jamie buried her face into her hands. "I can't believe this is happening."

Sara gazed at her with awe. "You're not considering...," she trailed off.

"What other choice do we have? Run or be killed, those are our choices," Jamie replied. "Look what happened when they weren't here. You were attack, wounded pretty badly. If we stay here, and they leave, the demons will be back, and they'll do a whole lot worse. I'm not risking it."

Sara gazed at her for a long moment, her jaw tight. She was surprised by Jamie's eagerness. A few days ago, she didn't believe in demons, didn't want to believe they ever existed, and now she was ready to up and leave her life, with these two male strangers in order to stay alive and get these creatures of Hell off their tail.

Back then, Sara didn't have a choice, she was too young to live alone. She was sent to the orphanage, no questions asked. But now, she could decide, she was old enough. However, what decision did she have now? Run or be killed, it was a given to know which option she would choose.

"Okay, okay," she began. "Whatever is needed to be done to keep us alive, I'll do it."

Jamie slightly smiled toward her. "Me too."

Dean sighed with relief. He thought for sure they might have picked up a better fight about the situation. He didn't want to leave the women here alone in Colorado, he had morals against that. Their father would have wanted him to keep them safe, no matter what, and this was the only way to do it, until they found John Winchester.

"It's settled then," Sam began. "We leave this morning, after breakfast."

"So suddenly?" Sara questioned.

"The faster we get on the road, the faster we can find our dad."

Sam could feel his older brother's eyes on him. He knew the urgency in Sam's voice. He wanted to find his father as quick as possible, maybe then he would have some idea on what killed his girlfriend, Jessica Moore. Revenge was the only thing on his mind since the day the fire broke out in their home, since he witnessed Jessica pinned to the ceiling. It hurt to see those memories, but they were the only thing that kept him going, that kept him from breaking down and mourning over her death. It was what kept him hungry for vengeance.

He knew he was being impatient, acting out toward his brother because he wanted to find his father so badly, to kill that damn thing once and for all. However, Dean had been pulling him toward different hunts, distracting him from searching. The only thing that stopped Sam from leaving Colorado was that premonition. He swore if he saw anyone else die in his dreams that he would save them, like he should have saved Jessica.

"Hey, just checking up on you guys." Wendy popped up with a grin. "How's the food?"

"Great," Sara replied. "It's great."

"Do you mind bringing us the bill, sweetheart?" Dean said.

"Of course." She gave a nod, leaving again.

Dean returned his attention on Sara. "You have your stuff at Jamie's, right?"

She shook her head. "Only a few clothes to last me a couple of days. We're going to have to stop by at my house."

Wendy came back, placing the check down on the table.

"Thanks," Dean said, sliding the paper toward him.

"How much is it?" Jamie asked, pulling out her wallet.

Dean smiled a charming smile. "We got this one."

"But—"

"Really, don't worry about it." He threw down a couple of bills. "Let's get going."

It seemed like an average morning when they returned toward Dean's Impala. No demon sightings, nothing seemed threatening at the moment. However, looks were deceiving. What more could Jamie and Sara do but be silent, sitting in the back of vehicle, wondering what awaiting for them in the future. Was this a mistake? Are they better off staying? So many questions ran through their mind, and it still seemed unbelievable. They barely knew these two men, and now they were leaving with them on a road trip.

Sara stared out the window as Dean pulled up at the side of the street, right in front of Jamie's house. She peered out toward her own vehicle, her brows furrowed with anger.

"Those sonofabitches," she muttered as she exited.

"What?" Jamie followed close behind.

Sara approached her Toyota Camry, observing the scratches, the slashed tires, and the broken glass. She worked so hard affording this car, and now it was complete trash.

"Goddamnit!" She ran a hand down her face. "Look what they did to my damn car!"

Dean came up beside her, studying the wreck. "A last minute resort..."

Still enraged, Sara turned to him. "What's that suppose to mean?"

"It means the demons were desperate," Sam answered for him. "This was their way of keeping you from leaving the state."

"I guess they didn't count on us coming back," Dean remarked smugly.

Sam and Dean searched throughout Jamie's house, but it was completely safe and secure. Sara helped Jamie pack every piece of clothing she could find into a large duffel bag. She avoided the windows and door that led to the backyard. The canine's corpse was still out there and Jamie had no desire to see it a second time.

Once everything was packed, Jamie took one final look at her well furnished home. Everything she worked hard on getting, she was leaving behind. She gazed around, wondering to herself when she would ever return. She had a feeling that she wouldn't be back very soon. With the bills left unpaid, who knew what she might come home to?

"Jamie, you ready?"

She turned toward Sam, whom stood at the doorway, waiting.

Jamie nodded her head. "Yeah."

Taking the duffel bag and throwing it over his shoulder, Sam waited as Jamie exited out of the house, closing the door behind him. She strode toward the side of the Impala, where Sara stood, gazing at her vehicle. Her frown was evident.

"I guess I won't need it anymore," she said, looking back at Jamie. "You okay?"

She nodded her head. "I'm fine...It's just so disappointing. What we've gone through just to make a living in America, and everything we've conquered, all the problems we suffered through and climbed over...it meant nothing, because now, we're going to leave it behind."

Sara nodded her head in understanding. Her words stung, but there was undeniable truth behind them. All the meaning behind her speech would definitely be embedded in her mind. Everything they worked hard on...It was just unbelievable.

"So, where are we headed now, ladies?" Dean questioned as he closed the trunk of the car where Sam placed the duffel bag.

"Denver," Sara answered.

The four entered inside the car.

"How far is that?" Dean asked his brother.

Sam pulled out a map, examining the distance. "Over two-hundred miles."

Dean heightened the volume on his radio, letting _Mot__ö__rhead_ fill the void of silence. The three hour drive was a quiet one. The women watched as the scenery passed by them through the windows. Would they ever see it again? How long would this journey be? There wasn't much said between the group, however, their minds raced with an assortment of questions.

The silence was broken as soon as they reached Denver. Sara navigated Dean through the twists and turns of the many roads to reach her own small town house.

The house was tall yet thin. Its appealing front was sorted in a decorative state. A small garage was at the left, the front door to the right of it. The house had a cozy feel to it.

Dean cut the engine, parking on the driveway and began to exit along with everyone else. Sara gazed at her home, looking it over just as Jamie had done to hers. It was the only place she felt comfortable for so many years, and it too was probably unsafe. She pulled out the keys to her lock, walking through the small walkway that led from the driveway.

"Nice place," Sam remarked.

Sara laughed slightly. "The outside looks nice...just wait until you see the inside. You'll be pleasantly surprised." She unlocked the door, letting it open wide.

"Sam, search through the lower level, I got the upstairs," Dean ordered. Sam nodded his head obediently, already making his way into the house. "Is everything you need upstairs?" he asked Sara.

"Yeah," she replied.

"Okay, stay behind me," he said toward the two. He began walking up the stairs that was only a few paces away from the door.

Gun in hand, and focus in his vision, Dean reached to the very top, inspected the narrow hall ahead. He checked every room, some furnished, others still under construction, but what each room had in common, was the amount of paint splotches on the walls, and the canvases lying in stacks on the floor. The very last room was Sara's destination, her bedroom. Dean opened the door, observing every little hiding place that a demon could hide in, but it was unoccupied along with the others.

Sara immediately went through her closet, looking for a large enough bag that could fit a collection of her clothing. Her injuries limited her though, where Jamie jumped in, in order to assist. As soon as they found Sara's old artists bag she once used to carry all of her creative instruments such as paint bottles, tubes, canvases, paint brushes, etcetera.

Dean examined the room, examining the different works of art done in different types of media hanging on the walls. He bent down, picking up a canvas that leaned against her bed frame.

"Did you paint this?"

Sara looked up from her knelt down position, studying the painted canvas he had in his hands. She recognized it as one of her favorite paintings she has ever done. "I'm studying art in college. That was one of my assignments."

Dean looked over the assortment of colours. He, being a non-artist junkie, could not tell whether it was painted with acrylic or oils, but that didn't matter to him. The painting was an image of a figure standing before the sunset. The figure had a build of a man, and though he looked human, he was partially transparent before the light from the sun. His legs were painted in a way so that it faded in a mist, blended with the sparkles of the suns rays. Though his assumption might have not been the message that Sara was advertising in her painting, he thought his man was painted in Sara's knowledge of what a memory or even a spirit would look like through a person's eye. She paid very much attention to detail, using the different paints very carefully, blending them accordingly. He was impressed.

"This is amazing," he complimented.

Her mind was elsewhere as she continued packing. "Thanks."

Footsteps were heard from the hall way. Sam entered shortly after.

"Everything's clear. I don't think they even stepped foot in here."

Dean shrugged. "I'm sure they were working up to it."

He looked away from his brother, picking up a picture frame from one of her shelves. It was an image of a little girl, laughing as she was being carried over a man's shoulders. He too was laughing, both looking happy on a sunny day. Dean placed it down, picking up another that lay beside it. Sara was smiling in this image, her cheek against the cheek of a man whom also smiled a bright smile. He looked around his twenties; his dark brown hair was cut only an inch long from his scalp.

"Is this your brother?" he assumed.

Sara stood up with minor difficultly, coming up behind him to examine the picture. "No, we're not related." She bit her lip in thought. "But that does remind me of something I need to do..."

"Do you need anything else, Sara?" Jamie questioned, placing a pile of folded clothes into the bag.

"No, I think that's everything."

Jamie zipped closed the bag, standing up in an attempt to lift it with the power of her knees.

"I got it," Sam said, taking the heavy bag from her hands.

"Thanks," she replied gratefully.

The group walked down the stairs, Sam walking ahead to throw the bag in the trunk alongside Jamie's. Sara had pulled out her cell phone when she exited out the front door. She dialed a number, bringing the phone to her ear. There was no ring and it was immediately sent to the answering machine. She tried a different number, but it was an identical result.

"Shit," Sara muttered, flipping her phone closed. She didn't know what to do now. _He_ needed to know, _he_ needed to know she was leaving Colorado.

"What's wrong?" Dean noticed her sudden aggravation.

She sighed, gazing at him. "That picture with me and the other guy...well that's my boyfriend."

Dean's brows lifted in acknowledgement. "Ah, so that was the 'but'. I was afraid I was losing my charm after you rejected me."

Sara slightly laughed, though it hurt her cheeks from the strain. She still felt the pain, but it was defiantly more bearable than yesterday. "Anyway, I can't leave without telling him where I'm going."

"What exactly are you going to tell him?" he wondered, gazing into the sun. "A couple of demons are after me, so I need to go on a road trip with a couple of guys that I don't even know—something like that?"

"Are you kidding me?" Sara smiled. "He'll think that I was high off my ass." Her face then became serious. "Unfortunately, he isn't answering his cell or phone, and I can't just leave without some sort of explanation."

Dean looked back at her, his brow cocked. "So, what do you want to do?"

"Um..." Sara inhaled sharply, looking toward Jamie and Sam who waited patiently, their faces curious. She looked back at eldest of the group, Dean, who waited for an answer. "Do you mind driving over to his house? Just give me a few minutes to explain briefly on things, just so he won't worry about me."

Dean grinned. "No problem. Do you know what you are going to say to him?"

"I'll think of something."

It was apparent that Sara was afraid. What could she say to Andrew Evans, her boyfriend, that would make sense, and that wouldn't seem like a ploy just to get away from him? Sara wondered how she would hold a relationship with Andy now that she was leaving the state to drive through other cities and towns of the United States of America to search for Dean and Sam's father—that possibly had a plan for their unfortunate situation. However, Sara knew it wouldn't be easy. Andy was a difficult person to explain things to. He liked detail and hated not knowing the whole truth in whatever she had to say. Although, he did treat everything like a joke, he still knew when matters are serious, and he would definitely question her as much as he saw fit. Sara loved him; it hurt to think that she would leave so suddenly.

She began shifting the promise ring he purchased for her on her finger with her thumb, thinking. What could she say? I'm leaving with a couple of friends on a good natured road trip; I'll see you when I see you? Andy wouldn't buy that and there was a guarantee he would worry. She already knew his reaction. Andy was known to be very overprotective; he always made sure she was safe and had the freedom to do anything she desired—with limitations of course.

"Just stop right there." Sara pointed toward the curb just in front of another town house.

"Do you want us to scout the house?" Sam inquired.

Sara shook her head. "That's not necessary. They didn't break-in my house; chances are they didn't break into Andrew's home either." She unbuckled her seatbelt, opening the car door.

"Do you want us to come in with you?" Dean asked.

"No, I think I can handle it. Just give me a few minutes." Sara closed the door behind her, walking through the small front lawn and toward the front door. She knocked on the door, but there was no answer.

_It's early in the morning, Andy would never be up and awake at this time_, she thought.

Sara dug into her pocket, pulling out the key to his house. Andy gave it to her whether there were ever to be an emergency, or—in his words—"if she ever felt lonely". She unlocked the door, again with the same difficult she had a few days ago, before she ever traveled to Alamosa, and entered, closing it behind her.

"Andy?" she called out.

As expected, there was no response. Her assumption was that: if Andy was in any place at this precise moment, he would either be in his bedroom sleeping, or passed out on the couch in his living room.

She tried the living room first. It was empty, besides the mess of beer cans left probably from the night before.

Andy obviously had a love for liquor, almost as compatible as Sara's love for the liquid. But there was always one thing that Sara had the will to do that Andy did not. She knew when to stop. Andy on the other hand continued downing the beverage until he was knocked out stone cold. It frightened her at times. When he was drunk, he slept so silent, unmoving, that there were times she jumped into the conclusion that he was dead if it were not for the rising of his chest at every easy breath he took.

Sara decided to try the bedroom next. Walking up the stairs, she continued to think of words to say to him, and how she would sort them out into logical, convincing sentences. Once she reached the door to his room, she inhaled a good amount of oxygen in order to calm her nerves.

Sara turned the knob. The first thing she saw was the mess of clothes on the floor and then the bed frame. As usual, Andy was sprawled across the large mattress, sleeping away in his gray plaid boxers. But there was something out of the ordinary. There was something out of place, something that really did not seem right through her eyes.

There was something beside him, another figure.

"Andy?"

Through her startled realization, Sara knew it was a person, a female. The woman was stripped down to her under garments, the bed sheets wrapped awkwardly around her body. Sara could not blink, could not even think. But she knew, without any thought, what she saw and what it meant.

"What the hell is this?" she questioned. Her eyes were tight.

Andy jerked awake at the sound of her firm, loud voice, shaking his head that pounded ever so lightly. He lifted his head, looking toward Sara that stood frozen at the door. His eyes widened slowly, and he turned his sights toward his left, where the woman slept silently. Andy looked back at Sara, where her eyes were brought to his. He watched as her eyebrows pulled together in anger and confusion.

"Sara...," he began slowly, carefully. "It's not what you think..."

Sara stared at him, hurt and infuriated. At that instant, she pivoted on her heel, dashing out the door.

"Shit," Andy cussed, jumping out of bed. "Wait, Sara!"

Ignoring his calls, she ran down the stairs, ignoring the pain at every step, aiming for the front door. A wave of emotions flooded in her that her only instinct was to leave the scene right now. All physical pain that was still on the wounds of her body was flooded over with a stronger emotional pain.

"Sara, hold on a sec! Just let me explain!"

"I don't want to hear it," she replied calmly. "I have no desire to hear what you have to say." Walking straight out the front door, she made her way toward the Impala. Sara could see the look of caution on Dean and Sam's faces as they observed the situation from afar.

"Just hear me out this one time!" Andy grabbed her arm, gripping it tightly so she couldn't take another step.

She turned to him, her eyes narrowed with accusations. "Hear you out?" Her voice dripped with toxic venom as she ripped her arm from his grip. "Why should I? I think I know very well what I saw back there!" She gestured toward the house angrily. Then, a mocking smile traced over her lips. "I bet you weren't expecting _me_ to be back home so soon, huh?"

Andy listened to her words but he couldn't help but observe the palpable marks on her face. His gaze traced over her cut lip and the bruise below her eye. He immediately became concerned, bringing his hand to her face. "How'd you get those?"

Sara slapped his hand away, rejecting his worry. "Don't change the subject!" Closing her eyes, she calmed down for a moment, taking quick even breaths. "Why'd you do it?" She opened up her eyes to look at his face, to look at his reaction when he would answer. When he didn't, she continued. "Did you get bored of me or something? Am I not good enough for you anymore?"

He shook his head. "No, no, that's not it." He ran his fingers through his hair. His hangover was killing him; it was just too much stress for the morning. Everything right now had gotten so irrepressible so quickly. "I had a lot to drink last night—she came on to me!"

Sara gave a spiteful laugh. "Oh, yeah, I bet you welcomed her with open arms too." She crossed her arms, looking away from him. "You're excuses are ridiculous."

"Sara—"

"No! I'm not listening to anymore bullshit!"

As the argument went on, Dean, Sam and Jamie watched from the sidelines, perplexed and anxious to know what was going on. Dean slowly lowered the volume of the radio in order to listen to what was being said between the two. Sara was angry, from what they could decipher through her body language. And seeing that her boyfriend, Andrew Evans, was in his underwear out in broad daylight, he must have done something wrong that he wouldn't have the time to change first. Dean perked up his ears, listening to what they were throwing at each other.

"Look, it was a mistake—a big mistake. I admit it. I'll do anything you want to make this better. _Anything_."

Sara shook her head toward him. "You're unbelievable. There is nothing you can do that will make this situation better. Absolutely nothing. Cheating on me with some slut is the lowest you could go."

Andrew frowned. "It's been a long week; I missed you, a lot. Alcohol can make you do really stupid things, especially when you're drinking to pass the time. If there was one thing I never wanted to do, it was to hurt you."

Sara shook her head again, looking down. She couldn't hear it anymore. It just sounded so familiar, like they were written lines to be memorized in a play. She heard it all before, in her past relationships. She needed to make the decision now, before she regretted believing his words, before her heart believed those words.

"No, no...I'm sorry, Andy, but it's over."

"Please don't say that to me." He whispered the sentence, that the group in the car barely heard it. "I'll do anything."

"You've done enough."

Suddenly, Andrew brought his hand to the back of Sara's neck, smashing his lips against hers. The last and desperate decision he could make. He hoped she would feel that love he had for, anything that could change her mind. However, Sara instantly pulled away, throwing her palm across his face.

Dean winced by reaction. "Ouch."

Sam immediately shushed him, in order to hear more.

Jamie, herself was even curious, even though it was wrong for her to listen to an argument that was definitely not at all any of her business. But the two staged it so well; she could not stop herself from listening and watching as if she was a paying audience member.

"I came here to say good bye, for what it's worth."

Andy felt his jaw and his cheek. She really did slap him hard. "What do you mean?" He dropped his hand to his side. "Where are you going?"

"I guess that's none of your business anymore."

Andy looked past her, toward the black Impala. Dean and Sam held his stare, never blinking, never looking away. His eyes challenged them, contemplating on an unspoken theory. "You leaving with them?" He jerked his chin toward the car.

"Why? Do you have a problem with that?" Sara could feel the anger begin to radiate from him. It was satisfying in a way.

"A problem? Do _I_ have a problem?" Andy asked sarcastically. "My girlfriend is going away with two guys I don't even know!"

"It really shouldn't be a problem anymore, considering I'm now your ex-girlfriend." Sara began pulling out the silver ring he gave to her from her finger, shoving it in his hand. "Here, you can have this back, the promise ring that was never meant to be given to me."

"What am I suppose to do with this?"

Sara took a step back. "Choke on it for all I care—or better yet, give it to that chick in your bed, maybe you can pretend to promise her that she's the only one in your life too."

Turning away, she went back into her stride toward the Impala. The group sat straight as she approached, acting as if they hadn't been eavesdropping. She entered the car, her expression distant.

"Sara!" Andy shouted and Sara closed her eyes.

"Dean, please, let's get the hell out of here," she whispered. She couldn't bear to look back at the man she once loved—still loved, even though she tried her hardest to deny it at the moment, because she was so angry.

Dean didn't say anything, but he started the engine, pressing his foot on the gas to start the car forward down the street.

"You okay?" Jamie asked gently.

Sara looked toward her, her eyes glazed with tears that Jamie hadn't seen in a very long time.


	5. Babysitting

Disclaimer: I do not own anything based on _Supernatural_, the rights go the Eric Kripke. I do However own the personalites of both Jamie Leslie and Sara Collins.

Author's Note: I took a while to update this one. People are painting the house so I've been fairly busy. This chapter is a little more subtle. Plus, not all things mentioned are accurate. For example: I'm not sure if America owns a John Anderson's but I added it just for pleasure.

**Chapter Four: Babysitting**

HOUSTON, TEXAS

_Running was all she could do. Her small, thin legs were forced with so much exertion; Jamie didn't know how she could continue running. Her body was too small to run at the pace of an adult and she could hear _him_ slowly coming closer._

_He was yelling, but the words he spoke were nothing Jamie could understand. Thunder shook the windows as she ran down the hall, hearing the rain spit against the glass. It was too dark to see. She was thankful for the flashes of lightening that illuminated the area. Her body was trembling so much with fear that she couldn't focus. All she could hear was his booming voice and a woman screaming. The woman was being punished for getting in _his_ way, getting in _his_ way toward Jamie._

_The hall felt so lengthy in distance, she didn't know how long it would be until she reached the door at the very end._

_It was an explosion of relief when she spotted the golden knob in the darkness. It was not too far now._

_Jamie tried to push her little body, feeling the sweat at the back of her neck. She immediately brought her little hands to the golden knob, trying to turn it. But it was stuck._

"_JAMIE!"_

_Jamie felt warm tears begin to pour down her rosy cheeks, whimpering while the footsteps got closer—the footsteps of his loud boots stepping against the hardwood floor. Her whimpering turned into sobbing. She couldn't get the damn door open._

_A shadow then overlapped her as another flash of lightening lit up the area. She turned toward the tall, giant figure in front of her. She squeaked in horror. Turning quickly back to the door, she was determined to force it open. But the door vanished along with the knob, and all she stood in front of was a black wall. She turned back toward the man, sinking into a curled up ball, her small face buried into her scratched knees._

"_No!" she shouted her voice at a child's volume. "Leave me alone!" She closed her eyes. "Leave me alone!"_

"Jamie?" _This voice was different now. It was not _his_, it was warm, soft. Somehow, it was familiar._

_Jamie felt a touch on her shoulder and she immediately reacted, throwing a fist in the air._

She opened her eyes.

She was not in the hall anymore, and she no longer heard thunder or the woman's crying. No, she was in a room, a room she remembered entering in last night. She remembered the tacky wallpaper, the vintage carpet on the floor. She lay atop a large mattress, her body covered in a sheet of sweat. Jamie saw a figure cringing in pain beside her, holding their nose.

Realization struck her hard.

The halls, the thunder, the rain, the footsteps, the woman crying—they were all a dream, a nightmare. She was awakened from a nightmare. And the voice she heard, the one who had called her name, belonged to the man that was cringing beside her, holding his nose as it bled.

It was Sam Winchester.

Jamie slapped a hand over her mouth, recognizing what she had done.

"Oh my God, I am so sorry! I'm so sorry!" she said to him as she jumped off the mattress of the bed.

Sam had recoiled, feeling his nose. It wasn't broken. Thank God.

"Oh, Sam...I didn't mean to make you bleed."

"It's okay...," he replied. Wincing, he stood straight, holding his nose up, pinching his nostrils closed to hold the blood off.

"Hold on, I'll go grab some tissue." Jamie ran toward the washroom.

At the sound of her footsteps, Sara jerked awake. Her brows furrowed with confusion, her eyes squinted from her disturbed slumber. She lifted her head from the pillow, looking over her shoulder to see that the space beside her was vacant and Sam stood a few inches away from the bed frame. He stood in a strange position, pinching his nose that pointing toward the ceiling.

"What's going on?" her throat was dry and hoarse. She cleared it with a cough and rubbed her eyes.

Dean had woken up also from the commotion. He groaned in protest. What time was it? He sat up from the mattress, observing the scene. Jamie returned back into the room with a bunch of toilet paper in her hand.

"What the hell just happened?" He yawned.

Jamie didn't answer to either of them. "Here." She handed Sam the toilet paper.

"Thanks," he replied, using the paper to clear the blood away. "Jamie was talking in her sleep, having a nightmare or something," he explained, adjusting the position of the paper on his nose. "Ah—anyway, I tried waking her up and...Well, you know the rest."

Dean couldn't help it. He burst out laughing. "What were you having a nightmare about, Sam running after you in a pink puffy dress?" His laughter continued.

Jamie gazed at him for a brief moment. There was no humor in her dream, nothing positive.

The nightmares were familiar, nightmares she had endured ever since she was a little girl. They had returned after so long, nightmares that she didn't care to see ever again. She didn't realize until then that her hands were still trembling from the horror. She didn't want to see that man again; she didn't want to hear that woman crying. Everything that she tried so diligently to forget returned so easily, it was as if they had never gone away.

"Yeah, sure...," she finally replied to him. Without a word, she escaped back into the washroom.

Sara stared after her, her brows pulled together. Something was astray, that was not a normal reaction Jamie usually would have used.

Dean was taken aback by her sudden escape. "Did I say something wrong?"

No one had dared replied to him. They had no answer to his question. Sara, too, was baffled by Jamie's act.

As the event was passed by, the four quickly got dressed and ready for the morning. The closest restaurant found was John Anderson's. The four entered, ordering the breakfast meals and sat down quickly at an empty table. The restaurant wasn't busy at all. Only a few other customers sat meters away from them, all other tables were vacuous.

No one had spoken since the motel.

Sam's nose still ached with pain, but the blood had ceased. Jamie was thinking endlessly about her nightmare. Sara was trying to forget the events of her cheating boyfriend yesterday, although it still hurt just thinking about it. Dean, however, was the only one whom noticed the silence. It was suffocating.

"So, Sam, how's your nose? How does it feel getting punched by a girl?" He chuckled at his own joke. Everyone else didn't find it so amusing. Dean grinned awkwardly. "Okay..."

An inept silence returned between the four, lingering in the air, tainting Dean's oxygen. He hated uncomfortable silences. The mood radiating from each individual in the group pressured him to lighten up the day.

"This is a nice place...," he said, trying to break the ice again. He looked up, observing the mirrors that were planted above them. "Hey, look, they also have mirrors on the ceiling. That's pretty cool..." Dean waited for someone to respond, but when it was apparent that no one was going to, he furrowed his brows in annoyance. "Okay...depressing. What's wrong with everyone?"

"Nothing is wrong." Sam was the one to answer.

Dean rolled his eyes. "Fine, whatever."

"Yeah, whatever." Sam looked away from his older brother.

Sara observed the brotherly immaturity for a moment, swallowing down her food. She gazed over at Jamie whom moved her fork against the substance, picking at it absently. "You haven't eaten anything, Jamie."

She sighed. "I'm not really hungry..."

Dean watched her carefully. Her mood had changed strangely and it bemused him. He wondered why this was so. "So, what's the matter with you? You've been acting like this since you punched little Sammy in the nose."

Sam glanced at his brother. "Dean." His voice was at a volume of warning.

The corners of Jamie's lips pulled up into a smile. "I'm fine, just fine." She brought a piece of food into her mouth, chewing as if to convince him.

Sara could see right through her fake smile, but she said nothing.

"So, what are we doing today?" Jamie asked, distracting the attention away from her self.

Sam and Dean exchanged glances for a second.

"Uh...well, Dean and I decided to take it easy, to give you two some time to adjust considering the circumstances," Sam answered.

Sara cocked a brow. "Makes sense..." Her voice was monotone.

Dean turned to his brother. "Yeah, so, Sammy, _what_ are we going to do today? Since, taking it easy was mostly your idea."

Sam hadn't thought that forward in the future. He quickly picked out whatever that came into thought first. "Uh...shopping?" he said with uncertainty. He thought of the idea more thoroughly. Realizing that it wasn't so bad a suggestion, he nodded to himself. "Shopping."

"Shopping?" Dean raised his eyebrows. "Are you serious, man?" He looked away, shaking his head, disappointed in his little brother. "Shopping...I can't believe we're related."

"I don't think that's too bad an idea," Jamie said, smiling.

Sam smiled smugly toward his brother. "See, she thinks it's a good idea."

Grinning sarcastically, Dean replied. "She's a girl, shopping is what they do."

Anger swept through Sara's body quickly. Eyes narrowed, she glared at the man who threw the remark. "Oh, don't forget our other talents: we cook, we clean and also nag you to death." Her voice dripped with venomous mockery. She looked away as his eyes shot to her, alarmed. "Men..."

Dean's jaw tightened. He did not know how to react to her bitterness. "O-Okay...I'm going to go the washroom now..." He slipped out of his seat, feeling awkward about Sara's raw statement and went through the door to the male's restroom.

Sam slightly laughed at Dean's response and gazed toward the woman that made him act such a way. Sara stared out the window, a frown on her lips. Her expression was distant, hard to read. Sam knew what had caused that expression on her face, and it wasn't Dean's remark.

The plan that Sam devised was definitely a smart idea despite Dean's refusal. Shopping was a great way to distract the women's minds from the earlier events of the last week. It had been an eventful week for them. Dean had shot Jamie's boyfriend dead in order to save the two from the evil that possessed him, Sara was attacked and sent to the hospital (her injuries still pained her, but she was a good sport and tried her ultimate best not to complain), Jamie's dog was mutilated in her own backyard, a threatening message was carved into her tree, Sara was attacked a second time at the hospital, Sam and Dean had come to only two choices for the two to take, the two packed their things to leave their homes for who knew how long and then something less unnatural happened: Sara caught her own boyfriend, Andrew Evans, in bed with another woman.

It was definitely a drama, horror filled week. Most certainly not an experience a person could live through without some eternal wounds. But shopping was definitely a good healing method.

Jamie's mood lightened from the dark it had fallen into from the morning. What came over her was something the two brothers were curious about. She tried to smile, holding the expressions that suited her more than a frown. It did convince them that she was alright, but they knew, in the back of their head; there was more going on within her mind than she let on.

Sara knew her longer, knew her better, she wasn't convinced by her smiles. Something was up, and she was determined to figure out what.

Concurrently, Sara had become "cranky"—as Dean would describe it—since the morning. Sam was surprised that his older brother didn't realize why she was acting such a way. He decided not to fill him in on the info he knew just yet. It was enjoyable to watch his brother as he squirmed under the acrid remarks Sara was sending him. The younger brother was the smarter one and gave the agitated woman as much space as she needed.

The four had settled themselves down the road surrounded by side shops, all pressed together shoulder to shoulder, advertising their merchandise in anyway. It was a beautiful sunny day. And hot. They all left their coats in the car, wearing thin layers of clothing, enough that they wouldn't be sweating under the heat. They walked down the busy street—barely a comparison to New York city—with hands in their pockets, enjoying the scenery as they chose the next store to enter.

Dean attended his eyes along all the girls passing by him, observing their tight tank tops and or frilling mini skirts.

"This _is_ a good idea." He beamed.

Sam slightly grinned at his brother's enthusiasm. "You do realize that most of these girls are underage, right?"

Sending him a sharp look, Dean immediately defended himself. "What are you talking about? They look above eighteen."

"It's just the make up," Sara remarked. She walked passed him, entering into a clothing store on their left.

Jamie strode behind her, sending Dean an apologetic smile.

Dean's jaw clenched as she disappeared through the entrance. "She seems _bitter_."

Sam sighed. It was his time to explain. "Well, what with happened to her boyfriend, it isn't very surprising that she'll be a little testy around men for a short while."

"But _I_ didn't do anything."

Sam rolled his eyes. "You always do something, Dean."

Jamie and Sara rummaged through the many clothing racks around the small shop, not particularly paying attention to what they were looking for. Sara was sorting through a row of colour coordinated shirts, watching Jamie through the corner of her eyes. She observed carefully at the concentrated, distant look on her face. Jamie was thoughtful, thinking about something while she absently searched through the row of jackets.

Sara thought this would be the perfect opportunity to talk to her, while the brothers were still outside. Immediately she grabbed a shirt from the rack as a decoy, turning toward her friend.

"What do you think about this shirt? Does it scream: Sara Collins?"

Jamie glanced at her for a short second, her attention back on the clothing she was sorting through. "Uh, yeah, sure."

Her response answered Sara's question whether she was paying attention. She placed the shirt back on the rack and then approached her friend. "Okay, seriously, I'm not buying this act." Jamie gazed at Sara, her eyes, for a moment, contained fear, but it was quickly gone. "What's wrong with you?"

Jamie smiled that fake smile again. "Nothing is wrong." She laughed lightly. "Why does everyone keep asking me?"

Sara stared at her for a long moment, narrowing her eyes. "Something's up with you, you're acting different. Why can't you just tell me?"

Jamie's fake smile faltered. If there was anybody she knew she couldn't fool, it was Sara. She frowned toward her. She couldn't tell her, she couldn't tell her about the nightmares, the nightmares of contorted memories. It was her secret she dared not to share; even to the woman she knew for so many years and loved like a sister.

The two didn't realize the two men had entered the shop until Dean's voice gave away their existence. He was observing a pale mannequin and the lingerie she wore. It was quite revealing, yet appealing. He grinned at it, pointing at the mannequin as he addressed the two women.

"I think one of you should try that on."

Sara took her eyes away from Jamie, staring at the older brother with disbelief. She cocked up a brow, her arms outstretched. "Are you for real, man?"

"It was a joke!" Dean exclaimed, throwing his hands up in defense. "Excuse me for trying to break the tension."

"Uh-huh." Sara rolled her eyes, walking away.

Jamie escaped away to the back of the store. She was thankful for the distraction Dean had created. Sara was cutting it close. Jamie decided to keep her mind away from anything equivocal, looking through the wooden shelves of a variety of footwear. Studying the collection of boots, she picked up a pair of long, black leather combat boots, stroking the laces.

"Those are nice."

Jumping at the voice, Jamie turned to Sam whom stood behind her. She relaxed slowly, a slight smile on her lips as she looked over Sam's expression.

"You look bored."

He shrugged. "I'm not much of a shopper. I just decided to come over here because Sara...Well, she's kinda scary right now."

She laughed lightly, shifting the boot in her hand. "It's better to give her some time. Once she's back to her old self, she's really a cool person to know."

Sam grinned, gazing across the store toward his older brother. "Yeah, but Dean doesn't seem to get the hint."

The two glanced over at Dean approaching Sara, saying something to her that they couldn't hear clearly.

"He means well."

Sam sighed. "He hates it when there's tension in the room...But whatever, it's his funeral."

Jamie brought her eyes back on the boot in her hands. She turned it over, inspecting the foot size. "Comfortable shoes are a priority for finding your father, right?"

Sam considered this question. The brothers had endured a lot of traveling while searching for John Winchester whereabouts. Even at one point they had hiked through a thick forest. That was no walk in the woods that was for sure. "Uh, yeah, I guess."

"Well, then, I guess I'll buy these." She smiled to him, before walking toward the cashier, asking the woman behind the desk if she had her size.

Sam watched as Sara began to approach him, her brows pulled together in annoyance. He almost flinched at her expression.

"Okay," she began loudly, "your brother is honestly getting on my last nerve. I know he's trying to be friendly, but please tell him that I need space right now, especially on the fact that he reminds me frighteningly so much of my ex-boyfriend."

Sam winced, that wasn't a good comparison.

Sara walked away, toward the company of her friend. The only person she hadn't been snapping at, from what he knew. As she left, Dean came beside him, pursing his lips.

"That's not exactly the reactions I usually get from women," he remarked.

"She'll warm up to you. But right now, just leave her alone," Sam said.

"Fine, I'll go for Jamie then."

Dean began walking away behind the women after Jamie purchased her boots and the two went out the door. Sam furrowed his brows at his brother, taking long strides to catch up to him.

"Dean!" Sam called after his brother, exiting the store.

Dean ignored him. "Hey, ladies, wait up!" he called after the women.

Sam grabbed his arm, pulling him to a stop. "What the hell is the matter with you?"

"What?" Dean questioned his brother's anger. He grinned slyly. "I'm excited. It's always been just you and me on this journey, and now we finally have some young women with us, _two_ of them, one for you, one for me. It's awesome."

Sam's jaw dropped. "Dean, they're not just some girls you meet at a bar after a long hunt. We're here to protect them, not...play with them."

"I know, I know." Dean gazed away from his brother, toward Jamie and Sara as they walked down the street. "But we might as well have some fun though." He followed after them.

Sam sighed, shaking his head and strode after his stupid older brother.

It became really hot during the afternoon. The sun beamed down on them, the rays heating their skin. Not only was it hot, but also very humid. Both men had their plaid, buttoned sweaters tied around their waist rather than over their T-shirts.

Jamie and Sara stopped in front of an ice cream stand. Jamie bought a Popsicle, ripping open the rapper and turning to the guys as Sara was searching which flavor she wanted to purchase. Jamie watched as Dean wiped the sweat off his forehead.

"You guys want one?" she offered.

"No thanks," Sam replied.

Dean muttered under breath. "Speak for yourself, I want a Popsicle."

Jamie broke her orange Popsicle down the middle, handing him the one half. "Here."

Dean grinned, taking it in his hand. "Thanks. You're an angel." He brought the Popsicle toward his mouth, taking a chunk from the tip with his teeth.

Sara dropped the change into the owner's hand as he handed her a cherry flavored Popsicle. She turned away from the stand, letting a kid in the front of the line as she unwrapped the covering. She licked the tip of the cold substance, looking over at the other side of the street inattentively.

The Popsicle slipped out of her hand.

"Sara?" Jamie questioned as her treat broke into pieces on the concrete floor.

Sara took a step back, bumping into Sam's arm. "They're here..."

"Who's here?" he asked, looking into her terrified face.

Dean was quick to decipher her meaning. "Where is _he_?"

Sam gazed bewildered at his brother.

Sara averted her gazes across the crowds trying to find the woman with the orange hair. She was there a second ago, staring her down with a grin, the exact same expression she had the first time she laid eyes on her. This time her sadistic eyes were green, human. Sara continued to retreat back, her body shaking.

"It's the demon, isn't it?" Sam asked.

"Do you see him?" Dean questioned, looking over at the same direction.

Sara shook her head. "It's not the man...it's the woman."

Dean remembered Sara explaining there were two demons: a male and a female. "Sam, stay here with them. I'm going to go check it out."

"Are you sure?"

Dean didn't answer, only turned his sights toward Sara. "What does she look like?"

She swallowed hard. "Short height, orange hair, green eyes..."

"Dean, just go subtle. She'll flinch at the mention of God. You can identify her that way."

He nodded his head, walking away across the street.

Sara's breathing became shaky as she felt a slight pain on her back, the same burning sensation she had felt before. It didn't hurt as much as the first time, it was more like a little pinch of pain. She knew right away it had to be her; it had to be the female demon that attacked her. The burnt symbol on her back meant something, she knew now. However, Sara fathomed that she needed to keep her new observation a secret until it was necessary to say so.

"Hey, Sara, it's going to be okay," Sam said soothingly, placing a hand on her shoulder. "We're here; we'll protect you this time."

Sara had been traumatized after that day, frightened by the simplest things that reminded her of that rainy nightmare.

After a few minutes, they lost sight of Dean in the crowds. The two women became anxious now that they could not catch a glimpse of Dean's masculine figure. They waited, their hearts beating so rapidly. Sam had more confidence in his brother; he knew he would return, unharmed.

Thoughts congested through the women's minds. Sara imagined so many possibilities of Dean's downfall that she had immediately stopped herself at mid-thought. It scared her to think of such things, especially when they could happen so easily. Somehow, the demon would be able to find a way to hurt him, even within that throng of unaware individuals. Sara knew what the demon was capable of; she had the bruises to prove it. The pain on her back was faint now, it wasn't as strong as she had first felt it a couple of minutes ago.

Time ticked away ever so slightly, each passing minute growing longer than the last. The people walked without any idea of the danger near, so close to them right now. To them, they would see a normal, petite, orange-haired woman—but to Sara, Jamie and Sam, they saw a threatening demon, confined in the innocence of the body of an unfortunate woman.

It seemed like forever before they saw Dean escaped from the crowds, untouched and walking across the street toward the waiting three. Jamie sighed with relief, while Sara questioned his agitated expression.

"Anything?" Sam was the one to ask.

"No, nothing," Dean muttered. "Where ever she is, she's long gone by now."

Sara knew that had been the case. Either the demon with the name that started with an 'M'—she still tried to remember what her name had been, considering it would probably be useful somehow in the future—would make an intense appearance, or she would fled and find another day to torment them. She hated the idea that she would comeback.

Sara jerked at the touch on her arm. Jamie lips were a tight line, completing Sara's facial expressions. She squeezed her arm, hoping that would comfort her tense posture. Jamie turned over to the brothers, gazing at them with a thoughtful gaze.

"I think we ought to go."

Sam glanced over at Sara who continued to stare across the street. Her eyes wide, watching with fear to see the demon again. "I think you're right."

It wasn't a decision anyone argued with. If the female demon was near, there was a guarantee that her male companion wouldn't be far off either. Dean despised the fact of fleeing, but it was the better decision to keep both Sara and Jamie safe. Sam watched eagerly for Sara's fear to fade away, but as they were in the Impala, Sara darted her eyes with alarm around the streets they passed. She was so paranoid that Jamie had to do her best to calm her anxiety. Eventually, Sara concluded her surveillance of the outside. Instead, she closed her eyes and slouched on the backseat letting Dean's classic rock sooth her.

Dean drove back to the motel, first on guard as he entered. However, everything was the same as how it was left.

It wasn't a comfortable time spent in the motel. Everyone was on edge, wondering if they would be attacked, if they should be on guard, should prepare for an onslaught. No one wanted to think of such thoughts, though Dean and Sam took the precaution of salting the windows and doors as protective measures.

The television did best to delude the minds of the four, but there was only so much you could watch before going stark raving mad.

Dean was the first to acknowledge his thinning sanity. He stood up abruptly from the mattress, pacing.

"I'm losing my mind!" he remarked, running his hand through his hair. "I need to get out of here. Let's go somewhere—let's go to a bar."

"A bar?" Sam questioned, giving his brother a look. "Dean, what do you think we're doing here in the first place? The demon is out there still and going to a bar isn't exactly the best secure place right now."

"I know!" Dean returned. "Believe me, I know. But I'm going crazy here, man. I feel like a rat in a cage."

Sara couldn't help but feel the same way. She felt guilty for the panic she had induced. They were being sheltered in the motel because of her, because of her fear.

"I agree with Dean," Sara spoke up, listening into their conversation. She stood up from the mattress. "Don't get me wrong, those demons terrify me, but I'm getting sick of hiding. It's stressful being in here—for all of us. Drinking will do us some good." She sighed lightly. "We can't hide every time we see the demon. We'll get nothing done that way. I'm sorry, I probably panicked everyone, and I don't want to do that every time I see danger. Besides, wouldn't the demon have attacked Dean back there if it wanted to?"

Dean looked over at Sam for a reaction.

"Look, you don't have to go just because Dean is—," Sam began.

"Oh, I don't feel obligated; believe me."

"Seriously though, Dean can go, and Jamie if she wants to. I'll stay here with you if—"

"No, really, I'm fine. I don't want to stay here as much as Dean doesn't. Stressful atmospheres make me uneasy. Liquor will help distract me even just for the night."

Jamie switched off the television. "If we consider it, being in a public place is secured, isn't it? A demon wouldn't attack in a place so crowded. All the times the demons came forward were areas where we were most vulnerable, areas where there were no witnesses."

It was true. Jamie's house, the hospital hall, the parking lot—they were all places that were vacant in some way. The demons planned for it as the perfect opportunity for invasion.

Sam sighed, disgruntled. "Are you sure?"

"Definitely."

Sam's outgoing caution refused this idea to be put forth, but there was nothing he could do to maneuver their minds. They seemed determined to have some fun for once.

Jamie and Sara had lived a week through Hell, they wanted a break from the world, away from all that was threatening. Sara missed the alcoholic beverages she favored and Jamie missed the social scene rather than being coped up in a room for hours at a time—staying at a classy bar that night sounded better to them than anything else that could have been suggested.

The growing concern never left Sam's mind as they approached a popular bar that was not too far from their local motel. He tried being sensitive with the situation, but keeping the women safe was his first priority. What good would come from entering toward the danger?

A persuasive brother was at his side however, convincing him of the safety in the area. "We're in a packed bar, no demon is going to attack us with witnesses," he had said. Sam wasn't so sure about that, though. But his statement didn't seem like a false entity. Still, Sam kept a close watch after the women as they ordered their drinks, conversing to one another while Dean loomed over the nearest appealing woman he could find.

Sam ran his hand through his hair, the blaring music ringing in his ears. He lifted his glass of water, bringing it to his dry lips. He didn't care for alcohol tonight. The cold water ran down his throat, calming the ache of dryness.

A figure attracted his eyes suddenly. He gazed up, watching as Jamie approached the table he sat at.

"Hey," she greeted with a soft voice, a smile on her lips.

Sam nodded to her in acknowledgement.

"You kind of look like you're at unease," she remarked.

Sam shook his head, slouching in his seat. "I don't think its smart entering here without some sort appraisal."

"We haven't been attacked yet, that has to account for something, right?"

"But, still—"

"Look, Sam, I get it," Jamie began, "you want to keep us safe. You have no idea how grateful I am for your guard, really, I am...but we can't stay sheltered for the remainder of the search for your father."

Sam gazed at her. "You're not afraid?"

Jamie laughed lightly. "Of course I am. I feel like I'm losing my mind, actually. C'mon, I'm running from Hell spawn with two men I barely know—no offense." She inhaled, trailing her eyes away. "But, honestly, I'm sick of being afraid. And it seems I have to add demons onto my list of fears."

"Yeah, I hear ya."

"But, hey, that's life. Who am I to complain about something everyone else has already lived through?"

"Demons included?" Sam smirked.

Jamie returned the grin. "Everyone has to face their demons sometime. Unfortunately, I guess you can say the term is more literal when it comes to our case."

"You can say that again."

Jamie nodded her head slowly. A thought began nagging at her mind as she examined Sam's brilliant face. "So, uh, this is kind of off topic but...how's your nose?"

Sam laughed to himself. His cheeks reddened slightly in embarrassment. "It's just fine, thanks."

"Are you sure? No long term damage?"

"C'mon, you gotta give me some credit."

"Sorry." She smiled. "I must be drumming down your ego."

Sam's eyes averted across the bar, watching his older brother as he conversed with an unknown young woman. "I think Dean has enough egos for the both of us."

"Oh, speaking of Dean, I spoke to Sara."

Sam blinked at her, confused. He tilted his head, waiting for her to continue.

"She actually acknowledges her behavior, for once. She feels bad for treating Dean and you with any discomfort and attitude. Sara's been thinking a lot with what happened to Andy and all. She's thinking of apologizing."

"Is that a big step for her or...?"

"Major," Jamie answered. "But you didn't hear anything from me, got it?"

"My lips are sealed." Sam returned his eyes toward his brother. He had trailed away from the woman, taking the bottle of beer he had in his grasp and sitting at a table closest to the bar. "Now's her chance."

From the corner of her eye, at the bar, Sara lurked as she watched Dean take a seat at a table near. She pursed her lips. The pride she held so highly felt threatened as she felt for a way to make it up to the older man. She rolled her eyes, why did she care so much when someone had negative reactions to her behavior?

Sara turned back to the bar, grabbing the bartender's attention. "Two beers please."

He nodded grabbing the bottles and uncapping them from under the counter. "Here you go, honey."

"Thanks," she returned, placing down a couple of bills.

Sara pulled the bottles closer toward her. She sat there, looking down at the full glassed liquor. It was hard enough thinking of what to say, but now she felt like an idiot for being too much of a coward to stand up. What was the worst that could happen? Besides a good kink in the ego, there was nothing she could lose. Biting on her tongue she gripped the bottles and stood from the leather stool she had been occupying. She turned and began approaching the table Dean had sat at.

Dean had just brought his beer to his lips, savoring the last drops before something hit the table. He brought his beer down, gazing curiously at the full bottle placed in front of him. He gazed up, recognizing Sara's face. He shifted awkwardly in his seat, looking back at the bottle.

"What's this?" he asked with confusion.

Sara pulled out the chair across from him, taking a seat. "A peace offering."

Cocking a brow, Dean returned his gaze on her. "Come again?"

Sara avoided his eyes, sighing inaudibly. Through absent act of nerves she began running her finger along the rim above the neck of her beer bottle. "I wanted to apologize for the way...I've been treating you. It's not your fault that my boyfriend turned out to be..."

A long pause lingered between the two.

Dean leaned against the table, crossing his arms. "A lying scumbag?" he concluded for her.

A slight smile appeared on her lips as she observed her bottle. "Just because you're part of the same gender, doesn't give me the right to be a bitch."

"A bitch sounds a little harsh—"

"But appropriate," Sara interrupted. She brought her sights back on his. "And considering we'll be traveling together for—well, who knows how long—I think we should enter this road trip in good terms. You are, in fact, risking your life to protect Jamie and me. I should treat you with more respect."

Dean slowly nodded his head. "So, that's what convinced you to apologize?"

"Uh, that's part of the reason." She paused for a moment. "It's a serious pet peeve when I know someone is mad at me. I kinda become desperate to make things right, you know?"

Dean pointed his index toward the beer. "Is it free?"

Sara stared at him for a moment. "Yeah."

Smiling a white smile, Dean responded, "Nice." He grasped the neck of the bottle. "Apology accepted then." Gesturing his beer in the air, he waited.

"Cheers."

The two bobbed their glasses together as a devotion to reconciliation, and equally took a swing of the cold beverage. Dean swallowed down the liquid quickly, putting down the bottle back on the table. He sighed with contentment, watching Sara as she continued to drink before putting down her own bottle.

Sara realized she had his attention, unfortunately unaware to why that was so.

"Can I ask you a question?"

Taken aback, Sara licked her lips absently. "Depends."

"It's a little personal."

She hesitated. "Shoot."

Dean waited for a moment before continuing. "Are you going to date again anytime soon?"

Sara choked on the beer she had just been drinking. She coughed a few times. "Excuse me?"

A grin traced his lips. "Just curious."

Inhaling sharply, Sara cleared her throat. "No, definitely not anytime soon." Dean nodded his head in understanding. She decided to add more. "I was actually thinking of turning lesbian."

His brows rose. "Really?"

Sara smiled widely. "We'll see."

Dean laughed slightly, taking another swing. "That's kind of a drastic change, don't you think?"

"Drastic change caused by a drastic event."

The two had a short laugh.

Dean drank the last drops of his liquor, noticing Sara had finished hers as well. "You want another one?"

Sara grinned wryly. "Is it free?"

Dean returned a smile, getting up from his seat. He approached the bar, leaning forward. "Hey, bartender, two beers," he ordered.

"Hey, dude," a man addressed him from his side, lightly tapping his shoulder.

Turning his head to his right, Dean observed the man. Standing at a height a few inches shorter than him, he wore a white wife beater along with faded out blue jeans. His black hair was slicked back, his expression anxious.

"Do I know you?" Dean remarked.

"That chick you were chatting with—is she available?" he questioned, taking a quick glance over at Sara sitting with no awareness.

Dean had glanced also, his brow raised. He snorted and brought his eyes back toward the bartender who uncapped one of his beers. "You are barking up the wrong tree, my friend."

The man returned his sights on him, feeling offended. "What makes you say that?"

He smiled widely to him. "She's lesbian."

"Serious?" The man looked back. "What a waste."

"You're telling me." Dean placed down the money he owed, receiving the beverages. "Keep looking, buddy, I'm sure there are more fishes in the sea. God knows I need to keep looking."

Turning away, Dean strode back toward the table. He sighed, realizing his statement seemed like valuable advice meant for his situation.

Two women were traveling with him, two women who now seemed out of reach. He realized that the "fun" he was expecting to have with these new acquaintances was now nothing but a fleeting fantasy. He felt that was an unfortunate loss. Dean understood that keeping both Sara Collins and Jamie Leslie safe was his duty, but he hoped for an award. However, his imagination got the best of him. The only award he would be receiving is the satisfaction that he saved another of two lives from the nightmares that existed on Earth.

Dean grumbled. "Still, why does it feel like I'm a babysitter?"


	6. See You on the Other Side

**Chapter Five: See You on the Other Side**

MARLIN, TEXAS

"I don't know about this, Dean." Sam sent his brother an exasperated stare as the sun beamed down on them.

The temperature was much higher than earlier days but it was welcomed by all, especially for those that owned farmlands in the Texan community.

The group had stopped at a small town called Marlin for a short break after a tiring morning. The Impala was needed of gas and a public utility was needed for use. Parked at a local gas station, Dean and Sam waited patiently.

The two women had quickly jogged to the public rest room as soon as Dean stopped the vehicle. While waiting, Dean preoccupied himself by browsing through the station's store. A recently published stack of newspaper caught his eye. Purchasing the newspaper, he skimmed through the many articles to pass the lengthy time. One article, however, called for his attention.

"Oh, c'mon, what harm could it do?" Dean retorted.

Sam shook his head. "I don't think it's such a good idea to begin a hunt so soon."

His older brother sighed irritably. "It's been a week already, how much more time do they need?"

"Dean..." Sam's voice was at a tone of warning.

"I'm thirsty for a hunt Sam, you know, I need to quench this thirst before it kills me." He brought a hand to his chest, making his words more dramatic as if he were an actor portraying a delicate role. He brought a hand to Sam's shoulder. "I need this."

Brushing off his brother's hand, Sam sighed and rolled his eyes. "Don't be so melodramatic. You've lasted longer than a week before."

Dean sneered. "Yeah, whatever." He looked away from his younger brother toward the gas station. Two figures stepped out of the shadows from the side of the station, conversing with one another. Dean waved a hand, catching their attention. "They're the reason you're saying no to this hunt, right?" He jerked his head toward Sara and Jamie. "So, why don't we just ask what they think?"

Sam gazed at his brother, his jaw clenched, and his mouth a thin line. He couldn't believe his brother sometimes. He was too crass over the situation. Didn't he understand that it had only been over a week ago that the two women were attacked? Didn't he understand that Sara was so badly injured; she was brought to the hospital? Didn't he understand that the demons were still out there, searching for them?

Of course not, he was Dean Winchester.

"You look excited." Sara gestured to Dean. "Did you get clues to your father's whereabouts or something?" she questioned as she approached the brothers with Jamie by her side.

"No, the man hasn't sent us coordinates since the Wendigo deal back in Colorado," Dean answered.

Jamie's eyes widened. "Whoa—what? There was a Wendigo in our state?"

Sara turned her eyes on Jamie. The name meant nothing to her. She felt the need to ask. "What's a Wendigo?"

"Creatures that were once people who had eaten the flesh of human beings and sported super speed and other abilities." Jamie's answer was quick and brief.

Dean grinned. "The girl's got knowledge."

"How'd you know that?" Sam wondered. He became skeptical, becoming extremely curious at the fact she knew Wendigo folklore yet she was a novice when it came to demons.

"College," she replied with a shrug. "I have a lot of time in my hands when I'm not studying. They have folklore books in the library; I tend to take a peek at them every now and then."

Dean's eyebrows rose. "Great, all I need is a chick version of my younger brother."

Sara stifled a chuckle. "Anyway, since we basically have no lead, it would be stupid to drive in circles. Should we stay in Texas?"

"Actually, I had an idea for what we could do while we wait for any clue to where my dad could be." Dean smiled wryly.

Sam rolled his eyes. "Here we go..."

"And you are mentioning this to us because you want our approval, correct?" Sara assumed. Dean was an easy man to read periodically.

"Exactly."

"We're not shopping again, are we?"

Dean shook his head. "That was more along distraction. This is more of a job."

Ripping the newspaper from Sam's hands, Dean pointed toward the article he had induced his attention upon. The headline was bolded strongly: _Fourth of Unexplained Injuries_.

"A farm here in Texas is being sold to any local and interested buyers. Now, each individual buyer goes in, has a tour of the place, right? But, each one of those individuals never leaves in perfect condition. Sprain ankles, wrists, broken legs, arms, fingers—whatever the injury, it's caused by unexplainable events—accuracies such as items falling where they are known to be secured.

The owner of the farm, Debbie Williams, has no explanations for any of these injuries and is even being charged for being responsible. And, because of these events she's selling the place for cheap, but no one wants to buy."

"I don't understand. What are you asking us?" Jamie wondered.

"This is a hunt."

Realization struck Sara head on. She knew exactly what Dean was leading them towards. "So you think that these unexplainable injuries are being caused by something supernatural, and you are asking us our opinion on whether we believe this is a good idea considering we have no knowledge or experience in your line of work."

"Right." Dean grinned. "Sammy here thinks it's a bad idea. He's worried you two might get yourselves in trouble and or hurt during the hunt."

"You want us to help you? What could we do?"

"Watch, listen, learn. I'm sorry but in a road trip like this with us Winchesters, we're bound to run into a variety of hunts along the way, it's just reality. It's better for you ladies to start learning the basics—Sam and I can't protect you all the time and we also can't ignore the amount of innocence being threatened by something we know how to stop."

Sara frowned. "Isn't this hunt a little risky? We'll be just sittings ducks, we're rookies, amateurs. I don't know about you but I rather not confront danger head on again."

"Listen to her, Dean," Sam whispered.

Dean simply ignored him. "This hunt isn't high risk. Trust me. A hunt where no victim has actually died is really low rank. This is probably the work of a weak spirit who needs help getting to the other side."

"What if it turns out these occurrences dealt with no supernatural activity and its nothing more then freak accidents?" Jamie considered.

He only shook his head at the idea. "There's no such thing as a freak accident."

"I don't know about this. Do what you have to do, but I don't want to be involved with getting into something way too out of hand for me," Sara disagreed.

After the ordeal with the demons and the many appearances from them, the idea of heading towards something that she had no experience with dealing seemed like a crazy thought. Sara wanted no part.

"That's just it. Dean and I can't leave you two unprotected. Demons are smart. Any chance we're away from you, they'll take the opportunity to strike."

"Perfect...," Sara muttered as she averted her eyes away from anyone else's.

She thought thoroughly about the injured victims, about those that had been vulnerable to the attack. She could relate to them.

Just like her, they did nothing to deserve ever getting hurt. She sighed with sympathy for the victims and felt guilty that she couldn't prevent their injuries. Selfish was the perfect word to label her self at the moment. Because she was afraid, she didn't want to help the innocence from these crucial events.

"Whatever is causing this…can we kill it?" Her gaze and attention were on the two brothers again.

The two exchanged glances, perplexed by the question.

"If it's a spirit, then yes," Dean answered.

Sara pursed her lips and turned to Jamie who was also thoughtful. "Opinions?"

Her friend took a moment to answer.

"Um, well…on one hand, Sara does have a good argument. We don't know anything about hunting. The only real defense _I_ have is kick boxing lessons I took back in summer, and I already can make the assumption that kick boxing isn't effective toward spirits. But, I can't ignore the amount of people that are being hurt by whatever is causing this." Jamie inhaled a good amount of oxygen, furrowing her brows with cogitation. "So, in my opinion, who are we to stop you from saving others?"

Dean grinned, satisfied with the answer. He turned to the other woman, her eyes on the ground beneath her.

"Sara?" he addressed.

She perked her head up, examining Dean's anxious expression. Jamie had been thinking the same as her; Sara knew what her opinion supported.

She smiled slightly. "What she said."

"See Sam, there's nothing to worry about," Dean remarked, patting his shoulder.

Sam rolled his eyes. "Are you two sure?" he asked the women clearly.

His gaze was narrowed, scrutinized.

The two nodded their heads, but only slightly. He already perceived that they were nervous about this decision.

"Good, that's all we need. First stop, Williams Plantation." Dean smirked to himself, opening the driver door and entering his Chevy Impala.

Sam shook his head. It was moments like these that Sam really hated his brother. "Ladies, you don't have to do anything if you're not comfortable in doing it despite what Dean says. If there is even the slightest hint of danger toward the two of you, I'm stopping this hunt. Understand?"

Sam's exertion in keeping them safe was admiring, however, Jamie felt responsible for the victims.

"But, what about all those people?"

Sam was silent for a moment.

"They—"

"Hey, are you three getting in?" Dean called out of the window.

Impatience was evident in his voice.

Sam sent Jamie and Sara a firm look, almost as if demanding that if they felt any source of insecurity, he should be informed. However, the idea of leaving a hunt incomplete where the innocence was being threatened didn't sound rational. The wellbeing of the two didn't compare to the growing number of victims. Sam was clear of his warning. His concern was gratifying and in a little of the sense, unnecessary.

Jamie and Sara entered inside the vehicle without a word, followed by the younger brother. Dean gazed at Sam, contemplating on a question he had on his mind, but he decided against asking it. Instead, he jerked his key and brought the Impala's engine to life, starting it off down the road.

A controlled silence lingered in the air as the scenery passed on by from view. Jamie watched the scenery with not much interest and attention. Her mind was else where, her eyes looking through the farmlands and into space.

Dean concentrated on his driving, while Sam read through the newspaper his brother had purchased.

Sara couldn't hear the silence. She bobbed her head to the music that boomed from her white earphones, listening to the familiar, lyrical melodies by _Queen_.

Had she not have her volume on so high, she would have brought focus toward the music booming out of her purse. Jamie turned to her friend, wondering why she hadn't stopped the loop of music. Realizing the woman couldn't even hear outside her own iPod, she nudged her.

Sara was knocked out of her nirvana, surprised by the sudden act. She shot her eyes toward Jamie, cocking a brow.

"What?"

Jamie knew that Sara was not the person to bother when she was into her music, but this time it was an exception.

She pulled one ear bud from her right ear. "In case you haven't noticed, you phone is ringing."

Only then did Sara regard the loop of music coming from within her purse. She hesitated for a moment, staring at the purse, earning confused glances from the bothers in doing so. She glanced up at Jamie, her face nervous.

Jamie understood and pulled out the cell phone herself. She studied the call display, sighing.

With that reaction, Sara sighed also, looking away from the dreaded phone. It was one piece of technology she hated most at the moment.

Dean gazed at the rearview mirror, observing the two. "Is that guy still calling you?"

He was referring to Andrew Evans—or Andy as he liked to be called. Sara grimaced at the name, also now her least favourite to hear. The man hadn't stopped calling her since she caught him with another woman. The calls had become less and less each day; however, it was still at an unnecessary amount. Her ring tone had even gotten on her nerves.

"Turn off the phone," she whispered. "I don't want to talk to him."

Jamie said not one word as she pressed down the end button, the screen going black. She threw it back into the purse.

The controlled silence had become uncomfortable at an alarming rate.

"Are you okay?" Sam asked cautiously.

Sara's anger had passed after the days, now what had replaced it was a questionable anguish. He was quick to notice.

Dean rolled his eyes. Sam: always the sensitive and concerned brother.

"Of course she's not okay."

After the talk he had with her the other night, Dean knew and understood Sara's feelings toward the event. It wasn't something you could forget, and the only thing you can gain from a traumatic experience like that was distrust.

"Give her time."

"To be honest, this isn't a subject I want to talk about right now," Sara muttered. She sent a small smile toward Sam. "Thanks though."

Sam gazed at her for a moment, reluctant in returning the smile.

"Okay...," Dean said aloud. "Are we coming close or do we still have a long way to go?"

Baffled, Sam quickly got organized, pulling out the folded up map from the dashboard. He narrowed his eyes down the road, glancing back toward the trail he had marked down on the paper.

"Two more miles." He trailed his finger over the drawn red line.

Dean nodded to himself, slightly pressing down on the gas pedal.

--

As Dean maneuvered the Impala onto the dirt road leading into the Williams' farmland, the group was heedful.

The crops appeared to be drying out, and uncared for as they should have been. In the distance, far down the dirt road a small house stood. The yellow paint remained in fragments on the walls, the pillars that supported the roof on the porch chipped and battered. The screen door had several cuts against the screen. An old blue truck was parked in front, beside a For Sale sign. Behind the petit house was a large rotten, red barn.

Dean cut the engine a mere distance away, exiting out along with the others.

Creaks from rusty hinges were heard as a figure stepped out of the front door of the home. A woman stood straight on the porch wearing a blue short sleeved shirt with faded blue jeans. Her curly blond hair was cropped short and messy on her head, flowing in the wind that accompanied it.

Her ice blue eyes watched with disorientation as the four strangers approached. She brushed off the remains of flour from her hands onto her pants, licking her lips.

"Can I help you folk?" she asked aloud, over the distance.

"We sure hope so," Dean replied politely. "We saw notices back downtown saying you were selling this place."

The woman was reluctant. "Are you interestin' in buyin'?"

A charming smile filled his lips. "We sure are."

The woman appeared hopeful. A smile traced her features.

She walked the flight of stairs onto the dirt plain to approach the group.

"Well then, I'm Debbie Williams." She gestured her hand out.

Dean shook it. "My name is Dean Anderson; this is my brother Sam, and our uh—two sisters, Sara and Jamie."

"Oh, big family," Debbie remarked with a grin.

"Yeah, well, our mother just passed away recently and we've been looking to find a plantation to buy for our father just to keep his mind off things," Sam said.

"He always told us he loved the farm when he was a little boy and we thought this place would be great," Dean added.

Jamie and Sara watched with amazement at how many lies the brothers seemed to come up with and let emanate into the naive ears of the older woman. The two decided to keep silent, afraid they could ruin the charade. Dean and Sam worked together, letting their false replies work in unison just like—the women assumed—they had done before.

These men were extremely good con artists—to their surprise.

"I'm sorry to hear about your mother. And I'm sure this would be a great place for your father. This plantation had been in my family for years, he would feel right at home here."

"That's great to hear," Dean remarked. "Do you mind giving us a tour around the place?"

"Oh, of course, I was about to suggest it. Please follow me," Debbie replied, leading them toward the house.

"If this place has been in your family for years, then why are you selling it?" Sam wondered.

Debbie sighed. "Well, this farm originally belonged to my father. But he's gotten older and no longer can care for the crops like he use to. So, my husband and I moved in and took over. After my husband passed away I hadn't had the energy or the time to care for this place myself. I was goin' to sell it and move back into the city."

"How old is this place, anyway?"

"Well...," Debbie began.

Jamie let the conversation the brothers were having with the woman slip from her hearing and averted her eyes around the area. It was old and needed of repair but the scenery was beautiful.

Debbie Williams entered the house, gesturing for everyone to follow her. Sam and Dean entered without hesitation.

As Jamie took the first step on the flight of stairs, movement caught her eyes. She turned her head to her left.

A small figure quickly disappeared behind the house.

Sara approached the opened door that led inside. She pulled out her cell phone, curious to know the time. Message alerts invaded the screen on her phone, distracting her from the task she had planed on doing. She hesitated to enter the house, skimming through the amount of messages Andy—her ex-boyfriend—left her. She frowned at the long list.

"I know I shouldn't be, but I think I'm starting to have second thoughts...," she whispered. She received no answer from Jamie, which was something she was not expecting. "Jamie, are you listening?" She turned her gaze, making sure Jamie was still behind her.

The woman had retreated from the steps, striding down the side of the house.

Sara's eyes narrowed. "Where the hell is she going?"

Sara let the door close, quickly following after her friend before she went too far. Turning the corner, she spotted her walking toward the red barn.

"Jamie! Hey!" she whispered loudly. "What are you doing?"

Jamie concluded her steps, casting a quick glance toward Sara. "I thought I saw someone go in there." She nodded her head toward the barn.

Reaching her side, Sara took her right arm in her hand. "Seeing a figure in the distance isn't exactly a good sign when we know we already have demons after us!" Her voice was scathing. "Let's get back to Sam and Dean."

"It isn't one of the demons," Jamie replied. "A little boy ran in there." She pulled free from her friend's grasp, making her way toward the barn's doors.

"Jamie!" Sara called after her. Biting her lip and crossing her arms, she took a quick glance behind her, and then jogged after the woman.

The barn's door closed right behind Jamie as she entered inside. Sara quickly got to the door. She didn't want Jamie out of her sight for too long. She squeezed inside also.

"Jamie, c'mon, let's go back before they notice we're even gone."

Her suggestion was ignored as Jamie entered further inside. A black figure had retreated behind a high stack of hey before she could see his whole profile. She took long steps toward the stack, hoping not to make a sound.

Entering in, Sara's steps were short. She didn't feel safe being here without the brothers.

"Jamie, please," she pleaded. "Let's go back."

Again, Jamie disregarded her request. She stopped at the side of the stack, hoping to catch the little boy before he ran again. Jamie closed her eyes and counted slowly.

_One_._ Two_._ Three_.

Jamie flashed around the stack but he was too fast for her. Her outreached hand only brushed against the boy's shoulder before he darted away from view. Jamie blew out the breath she didn't know she was even holding.

Sara began to turn agitated as Jamie continued to ignore her pleas. "Jamie—"

Rumbling interrupted her. The ground beneath her began to shake violently, her balance being challenged. Dust from the old wood began shedding from the ceiling as farming tools clattered against the walls.

Sara took a step back, hearing a piece of wood crack. Jerking her eyes above her, she froze on the spot. Her eyes could only see wooden shards fall as a pitchfork began to lean forward from where it was being held by on the thin wooden pillar. The steel fork came down fast, giving Sara no time to react.

Closing her eyes, she waited for the impact.

Suddenly, she felt arms slide around her waist and jerk her back with great force, knocking her off her feet. Sara grunted as she hit against something that she knew should have been the floor but wasn't. A grumble was also heard from behind her. Before she could take the time to check what she landed on, the pitch fork pierced into the floor a few inches away from her feet. Her eyes widened in alarm.

"Is everyone alright?" Sam's voice entered the silence.

"Yeah," Dean replied from behind Sara.

Sara pulled back, realizing that Dean had been the one that pulled her away from danger. He sent her an unreadable gaze, his lips a thin line. He appeared to be contemplating about something within his mind, an argument with himself perhaps. But Sara wasn't sure.

She averted her gaze above Dean's head, seeing Sam at the doorway of the barn, Debbie Williams standing behind him with a hand clapped over her gasping mouth.

Sam's face was filled with worry and apprehension. Sara's eyes returned to Dean's, her expression reflecting calculating fear.

Dean helped the frightened woman to her feet whose stare held onto the pitchfork in front of them. It stood without support, perforating deep in the group.

Disorientation weighed on Jamie as she watched the scene from afar. What just happened?

"I don't understand," Debbie started. "Why does this keep happenin'?"

Sam turned to her. "Mrs. Williams, get the first aid."

She nodded her head vigorously. "Yes, of course." And darted out of the barn.

Given the distraction, Sam made his way toward his brother. His concerned eyes were on Sara. "Are you sure you're okay?"

She didn't answer, only continued staring at how close she was from being under that menacing pitchfork.

A screeching sound then started from Dean's pocket. He pulled out a strange contraption that resembled a busted up walkman. The meter that had been implanted on the walkmans periphery squirmed like a withering woman.

"I barely got a reading in the house, but the EMF is going crazy in here."

Placing his hands on her shoulders, Dean began leading Sara out of the barn. "C'mon, we'll take you to the car so you can sit."

Jamie quickly caught up with the three, concerned about her friend. She reached Sara's side, grabbing hold of her arm.

"It's okay, I got her," she assured.

Dean nodded his head, letting the woman take Sara to the Impala. Sam and Dean watched as Jamie opened the back door, letting Sara rest on the seat.

Sara's focus was else where as she stared straight toward the dirt floor, rocking her body. She looked down at her hands that were shaking uncontrollably as a sharp chill slithered down her spine. Lifting her head, she looked into her friends face and slowly her eyes glazed over as she bit her bottom lip.

Jamie had great sympathy for her. She should have listened; she should have listened to her pleas. This was her fault. Her curiosity got the best of her again.

"Oh, Sara, I'm sorry," she said quietly.

Sara began choking with tears, closing her eyes as they spilled over her cheeks. Jamie embraced her, letting the woman bury her face into her jacket. It wasn't like Sara to cry out of fear, but she had an excuse. This was the fourth time she had a close call.

Watching from the distance, Dean rubbed his hand over his mouth thoughtfully.

Sam glared at his older brother. "'A hunt where no one has actually died is _low rank_'?" Sam mocked him. "Sara almost died in there, Dean!" He gestured toward the barn. "This has got to be the stupidest idea you've ever had! Did you really think that these girls would be ready for a hunt?"

Dean narrowed his eyes. "And what do you want me to do, huh?! In every hunt we've ever been to, we never came out without cuts or bruises! You think I can always guarantee their safety, Sam?!" he shouted in return. "Why don't you cut me some slack, okay? I'm only doing this because I know that eventually there will be that chance where we won't be there in time to protect them!"

"I'd say we're cutting it close."

The two brothers glared at one another before Debbie exited out of her house, a first aid kit in her hands. The two shot their sights on her. Debbie gazed from afar toward the Impala.

"Is she okay?" she asked with concern.

Sam sighed. "She's just shaken up. She's okay though, but I think we ought to leave and take her back home."

"I'm so sorry for what happened," she apologized. "I don't know what's been goin' on around this place, it's like it's suddenly cursed or somethin'."

"It's all right, ma'am. Thanks for the tour, anyway. We'll be back."

Debbie's eyes widened with surprise. "You mean...You still want to buy this place?"

"One event isn't going to keep us away." Dean sent a gleaming smile. "Take care."

"Well, thank you. You too," she replied and watched as the brothers entered the Impala.

Sara's sobbing concluded after a while as they drove back to Marlin. The anger between the two brothers was still evident, and without the music to drown out the awkward silence, a tense atmosphere formed as a replacement.

However, after a short while, a question began nagging at Dean. "What were you two thinking, running off like that?"

Jamie frowned to herself, feeling the one responsible.

"It was my fault," she confessed. "I saw a little boy enter the barn, and curiosity got the best of me. Sara only followed because she was worried. I didn't mean for this to happen."

Dean sighed. "From now on you girls don't leave our side, you understand me?"

Both women gave short nods.

Nodding to himself also, Dean inhaled. "A little boy, huh?" He cast a quick glance toward his brother. "Maybe that's the spirit. I'll check the Williams' record for any young boys that died in the family."

"Dean, no," Sam quickly interjected. "We're done. We're not going any farther with this hunt. Forget it."

"Oh, so we're just going to forget about all the victims that were attacked and go to the next state?" Dean sneered.

"Look, if no one else goes to buy the house, then no one else will get hurt."

"What if Debbie Williams is next, huh? Are we just going to forget her?"

"Dean, would you just listen to me!" Sam's voice grew louder as he threw his hands in front of him angrily. "Look at Sara, do you really want to put her through that again?!"

He didn't answer right away. "I'm not going to leave this hunt unfinished, I'm sorry Sam."

Sam was silent, bluntly glaring at his brother with frustration.

Dean's eyes returned back on the road, his expression in a snarl. He quickly pressed play on his radio, heightening the volume of his mullet rock, avoiding anymore arguments for the remainder of the drive.

Dean drove the Impala to the nearest motel they could find. Without a word, he parked in front, not taking the time to turn off the radio nor the vehicle's engine.

However, no one had taken notice to his reluctance. Following Sam's stride, the two women exited out of the car. Dean had finally stridden out also, taking long steps around his Impala, toward the trunk. He lifted it, pulling out three duffel bags, leaving the one that was his inside. Without difficulty, Sam took all three. He was keen on noticing Dean had not taking his bag out also. Closing the trunk, Dean entered back into his car.

Confused, Sam walked to his window. "Aren't you coming?"

Looking up, Dean's gaze was relentless. "No, I still have a few things to do." He averted his eyes away, heightening his music. "Take care of the girls." His statement was an order.

Sam took a step back as his brother reversed, turned and drove back onto public road.

Both Sara and Jamie watched him leave with mild inquiry.

"Where's he going?" Jamie asked.

Sam sighed lightly. "To do research."

--

Hunting was his job; hunting was what he was raised to do. Dean would be damned if he left a hunt unfinished. He was going to complete his mission with or without Sam. He understood that the safety of both the women mattered to his younger brother—it mattered to him too, but so did the safety of all the other innocent victims.

They were going to stay in Texas until the spirit was put to rest.

Not far from the motel, Dean found the city's public library. Research was not his strong suit—that always had been Sam's job—but he knew he needed information before going after the damn thing.

He entered in casually, a man on a mission. Dean went toward the first Microfiche Reader. Beside it, a large gray cabinet stood. He grinned at the convenience and quickly began searching through the specifics.

From Marlin history to Texan history, Dean skimmed through many articles. He rubbed his strained eyes. They were losing focus from the amount of congested letters in every single article he went through. His eyes burned and he closed them, taking a quick and well earned break.

Inhaling, Dean opened them back up. His patience wore thin as he breezed through meaningless articles. The articles dated back in the nineties. He didn't think he would find anything, not until a black and white image caught his eye. He returned to the photograph. A brief description was typed underneath.

"The Williams family...," Dean whispered to him self.

Debbie Williams was the only member that contained recognition. She was younger, thinner, and happier. A tall man stood behind her, his hands on her shoulders, smiling brightly. He must be the husband, Dean decided. Another man stood to the right of the tall man. He was just a mere few inches shorter, older. Debbie's father, he assumed. Naming off all the members in the photo, there was one that stood out of place. A young boy was smiling, beaming at the side of Mrs. Williams, griping on her ivory dress.

Dean took note that the article dated back to 1993. Briskly, he read through the text, his eyes widening at the information.

_Sonofabitch_.

"She had a son..."

Recovering from the shock, Dean was quick to find more information on the Williams' son. The librarian had supplied him with the actual newspaper. On the front page was a blown up image of the boy. It must have been a big story to hit the front page. At the end of the short summary, the text said to continue on page A5. It was the same article he found on the Reader.

Dean took full advantage of the photo copier, paying his dues and exiting the library. He had his research; he had his ghost, now all he needed was the bones to burn. He needed to pay Debbie's father a visit.

He entered his Impala, driving back toward the motel. The sky was slowly getting darker, but the sun hadn't set yet. Dean didn't realize how long he had stayed.

Before hand, he called Sam, asking which room they were staying in and to leave the door unlocked. Dean knew Sam was smart, he knew he already salted the windows and doors as precaution.

Dean approached the door with the golden number twelve hanging from it, papers and duffel bag in one hand. He turned the knob and entered, closing the door behind him.

Sam looked up at Dean, his tense shoulders sagging at the familiar face. He sat at the small gray table, the light from the screen of his laptop illumination his face. Across the room two beds stood side by side, Sara was laying atop one, her eyes closed. Distinctly, Dean could also hear water from a shower head. Jamie was in the washroom.

Aware that everyone was well, Dean dropped his bag onto a chair across from Sam's, simply ignoring his brother's eyes on him.

"Where'd you go?" he finally asked, his jaw clenched.

Dean acknowledged him, and then took off his leather coat. "To the library." He looked away, muttering to himself, "Not that you would care."

Sam gazed at his brother for a moment, realizing the papers in his hand. He was reluctant to ask at first but took the initiative. "Did you find anything?"

"I did, actually," he replied scornfully.

He placed his jacket over the chair and picked up his duffel bag, striding toward the unoccupied bed. He threw the bag to the side. His eyes averted towards Sara's sleeping figure.

She seemed at peace considering her near death encounter. If he hadn't been there to pull her away...

"Well?" Sam asked.

Dean turned to him abruptly. "Oh, so _now_ you're interested?"

"_Dean_."

He rolled his eyes at the look that Sam gave him. "I went to the library to do some research on the Williams' background. Turns out the Williams had a son."

Dean approached the table and threw the papers in his hand onto the table's surface. "Evan Williams was eight years old before he accidentally fell and drowned in the local pond just a few feet away from the house in nineteen-ninety-three. Only witness was the grandfather, Charles Brown."

Sam smirked. "Charles Brown?"

Dean gazed at him oddly, unsure why he was so amused. "What?"

"You know, Charlie Brown, Charles Brown. Charlie Brown was from that show that aired when we were kids. You don't remember?" Sam asked.

Dean slowly understood. "Wasn't that called _Peanuts_?" He grinned to himself—"Heh, Charlie Brown,"—then shook his head for getting out of topic. "Anyway, now the grandfather is in the hospital. He recently had a heart attack."

Sam took the papers in his hands, scanning them. "So you think Evan could be haunting the place?"

Dean nodded. "Drowning _is_ a violent death."

Just then, the door to the washroom drew open. Jamie stepped out. She gazed at Dean, surprised.

"Oh, you're back."

"Jamie, come here for a second," Dean said, gesturing her to come forward with his finger. He averted his eyes toward the papers, taking the one page with the image of Evan Williams. "Is this the boy you saw?"

Jamie took the page in her hands, observing it thoroughly. The image was that of a smiling eight-year-old, his blond hair framing his round face, freckles scattered on his nose and cheeks. His ice blue eyes were bright. "Um, yeah. Although his hair was just a little bit longer and his clothing appeared damp."

Dean smiled triumphantly. "We got our spirit."

"Did you find out where he was buried?" Sam questioned.

"No, but I'm sure Charl_ie_ Brown will know." Dean pulled his coat from the chair.

"You're leaving again?"

Sliding his arms through the sleeves, Dean adjusted the collar at the back of his neck. "Well, yeah, since I'm doing this hunt on my own."

Jamie stared hard at the image in her hands. The boy was a spirit now; he needed to be put to rest. Maybe the boy was scared of her, that's why he ran away. Maybe he was afraid to move on. Could that be the reason why he was a spirit?

She lifted her head. "I want to come with you."

Both brothers shot their eyes on her, flabbergasted. "You will?" they both said in unison.

She smiled lightly. "Sure. Practice makes perfect, right?"

Dean grinned widely. "Thadda girl."

"But Dean—"

He immediately interrupted Sam. "If the lady wants to come, she can come."

Sam sighed but said nothing.

Jamie sent him a reassuring smile. "It's okay. I won't wonder off this time. I'll be fine."

"C'mon, we better get going before visiting hours are over at the hospital," Dean announced. "Take care of Sara while we're gone, Sammy."

"No problem," he replied quietly.

Jamie quickly grabbed her zipped up black hoodie and tagged after Dean through the door. She pulled her bronze, long, curly hair back as she threw her hood on. Her hair was still wet from the shower and exposure would get her sick. Jamie's immune system was pretty weak and the last thing she needed was to be ill.

Once reaching toward the Impala, Dean opened the door for her.

Astonished, Jamie smiled. "Thanks." And entered inside.

Dean strode to his side, jumping in and turning the ignition. He pulled out of the parking lot, back on the road. Dean lowered his music a tad in order to allow some conversation.

Jamie took the opportunity. "So, we're going to a hospital?"

"Yep, we're heading to Falls Community Hospital."

"To visit the grandfather of this boy?"

"Right."

Jamie pursed her lips. "How are we going to get there and ask questions without seeming leery?"

Dean grinned. "That's why we have these." He stretched out his hand, pulling open the glove compartment and taking out a wooden box. He threw it gently atop Jamie's lap.

Jamie lifted the lid curiously. A collection of cards were in the boxes depths. She lifted one with a photo of Dean. "Minnesota Law Enforcement?" She picked up another. "Christopher Johnson Jr.?" She raised her brows. "Are _these_ what I think they are?"

"Impressive, aren't they?" Dean said boastfully.

"For illegal identifications, I'd say I'm impressed." She smirked.

"How do you think we get anywhere in our line of work? It's not the most honest thing, but it helps us save lives."

"Point taken." She placed the box to the side, closing the compartment. "So, who are we today?"

"I'm still thinking," Dean replied. "But reporters sound legitimate."

"What does the grandfather know that's so important?"

"Where the kid was buried."

She furrowed her brow. "What?"

Dean glanced at her. He hadn't explained how they killed a spirit before. "In order to bring the spirit of Evan to the other side, we have to burn his bones."

Jamie swallowed. "I would have never thought..." She trailed off. "Will the boy's spirit actually die?"

Dean shrugged. "There are some questions in this job that we don't have the answers for. But my father told us that burning the bones was like death for the spirits, it's the only thing that can put them at rest." He drew in a breath. "Unless the spirit still had something to do before it passed on—like seeing a loved one—and if it completed that, then it'll disappear also."

"I see." Jamie nodded her head in understanding.

A silence lingered for a brief moment.

"Something's been bugging me," Dean confessed.

Jamie gazed at him, his expression was canny. "Yes?"

"You and Sara, you left Colorado without contacting anyone to say you were leaving—except for of course Sara's boyfriend. Why is that?" he questioned. "Don't you two have family that would worry about you?"

Jamie sighed and shook her head. "For as long as I could remember, I was raised in an orphanage. I don't have parents that I know of, or family for that matter."

Dean saw something flash in Jamie's eyes, but dismissed it. "And Sara?"

"Sara came into the same orphanage a month or two after my thirteenth birthday. Her father passed away when she was only twelve."

Dean was curious. "How'd her father die?"

Jamie shrugged. "I don't know. Sara never likes to talk about it. I think she was the one that saw her father die, she was the one who witnessed everything."

"She doesn't have a mother either?"

"You need to speak to Sara about that. It's not my business to say."

Dean nodded slowly. "Fair enough."

--

Sara's eye fluttered open as she heard the television being turned on. She rubbed her sore, watery eyes and slowly sat up.

The nap was refreshing and calmed her down. The near death experience was too much of an event to take. She cursed herself for breaking down in front of everyone, but Sara felt she deserved to do so. Never did she have to deal with such things in her life before. It was at that moment, she wished she had Andy to talk to. But she grimaced immediately. The bastard wouldn't help. Instead, he would probably beg for her back, like he had in the messages.

Sara shifted herself, dropping her legs over the side of the bed.

At the sound of her movement, Sam jerked his head back. His expression softened.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you."

"That's okay," Sara automatically replied. From his expression, she could already decipher he was sulking for a long time now. "Are you all right?"

Sam's eyes widened only slightly in surprise, and then returned back to normal. Sara assumed he wasn't expecting the question. "Yeah—yeah. How about you? Are you okay?"

Sara took note that he had quickly changed the subject away from himself but shrugged it off quickly.

"I'm better, I guess." Her eyes averted away from his, toward her hands that were no longer shaking.

Sara heard Sam get up, seeing the glimpse of his feet and legs before she heard the springs of the mattress across the one she sat on squeal. He sat across from her.

"Sara." He placed his hand on hers. "Look at me."

She did with a reluctance she didn't mean to have.

"Please, tell me the truth," he said softly. His brows furrowed with worry. "Are you really okay?"

Tears began to glaze her eyes, and she tried as hard as she could to fight them back. Sara refused to cry again. But she wouldn't refuse to tell the truth.

Slowly, she shook her head.

"You want to talk about it?" Sam asked. "This isn't just about today, is it?"

His words hit home, but she didn't want to answer.

"Sara, if we're going to be taking this road trip together, we need to learn to understand each other."

Sara looked away again, gazing at his hand that was still on hers. Slowly it retracted away.

"No, it's not just about today, and no, I don't want to talk about it," Sara whispered.

Sam frowned. "This is about the demons, isn't it? Your boyfriend—everything. Am I right?"

Sara opened her mouth to say something, but decided against it. She nodded her head instead.

"It's understandable. You had a lot of close calls."

"Too many if you ask me," she remarked.

Sam grinned. She was getting back into character.

"Dean... He's angry at me, isn't he?" She looked up at him.

"What?" Sam was taken aback. "Why would he be?"

"Well, I kinda ruined the hunt for him, didn't I?" she questioned. "Because of my 'close call', you refused to help him. It's a given he'd be angry at me because of that."

"Dean would have no right to be angry at you," he replied. "One: you didn't do anything wrong, and two: Dean understands. Sara, you were almost killed today, why would you be thinking about anybody but yourself?"

Sara paused, her eyes slowly widening. "What did you say?"

"That Dean would have no reason to be angry at you or...?"

Sara didn't reply. Her eyes looked passed him, into her thoughts.

_Why would you be thinking about anybody but yourself?_

Sara listened to those words. She heard it before, and remembering the voice that had spoken those words so long ago clenched her heart so tightly she thought she couldn't breathe.

"Sara, what's the matter?"

She brought her focus back on Sam. "I…I'm not feeling so well." She held her chest as she stood up. "Excuse me."

Before Sam could say anything, Sara retreated into the washroom, closing and locking the door behind her. She leaned against it for a few short beats. The pain that resided in her chest weakened and she found the strength to walk away from the door. Sara reached the sink, twisting one of the knobs, letting the water run from the faucet. She splashed some water on her face and moved her hair out of the way.

A knock came at the door.

"Sara, is everything okay with you? Are you feeling nauseous? Do you want me to get you some aspirin or something?"

Sara frowned toward her reflection on the mirror. Sam was just concerned, she had to remind herself. But the last thing she wanted was for him to leave the motel room, leave her by herself, unprotected.

"I'm fine," she replied, "Just a little headache. I don't need anything, thanks."

She didn't hear a reply on the other end.

Sara leaned against the counter in front of the mirror, turning the knob, the water thinning until it no longer came down.

_It's okay Sara. Just breathe, relax. Don't let those words get to you._

But they were so significant to her memories.

_Ironic, isn't it? Those were the same words I said to my father._

Sara looked up, gazing into her own light hazel eyes.

She could remember everything so distinctly, as if she had read the same chapter over and over again, word by word, sentence by sentence. It was as if it had happened just yesterday but in reality it's been eleven years.

That dark, cold night, how she stood as an immobile little girl, just staring as the paramedics zipped up the black body bag that contained the one man that she loved and trusted, the one man that mattered in her existence. Sara had to concentrate to hold back her tears.

She would never forget what she said to her father, Eric Collins, before she witnessed his death. He was worried about someone, a person he cared for. She remembered him telling her to stay in the car and if anything happened, anything at all, for her to run—but that was something she could never do. Sara remembered staring up at his green eyes—the green eyes she wished she had—with so much concern and fear. Sara was worried about him that night; he was acting so strangely, keeping secrets which he had never done before.

That moment he said, "Sara, honey, everything is going to be okay. I don't want you to be afraid or worried. I'll be out as quick as possible and take you home."

That time, Sara didn't understand his words. She didn't care how she was feeling, she was worried about _him_. He spoke with such assurance as if he had to convince himself that what he was doing was ethical.

It was there where Sara emulated Sam's words, "Forget about me, Dad! Why would you be thinking about anybody but yourself? You always made sure I had the best even if it wasn't the best for you! Just this one time I want you to think about your self and if doing what it is you're thinking of doing is good for _you_!"

After all these years Sara had the assumption that he went into that house to make sure someone was okay and safe, or he was risking his life to save that special someone. Again, he was thinking about other people, he never did think about his wellbeing. And that's how he lost his life. By the time Sara ran in through the door, it was already too late. Those horrific screams, the blood, the dying light in her father's eyes—

No. She couldn't remind herself of that. The last thing she wanted to think about was what she saw that night, the definite _last_ thing.

Splashing more water on her face, Sara grabbed a towel from the plastic hanger, drying herself. She placed the towel back on the hook, inhaling a good amount of oxygen and exited out of the wash room.

Sam stood up immediately at her entrance, expecting to apply some assistance, she decided. But she didn't need anything anymore. Sara would be fine, as long as she didn't let her mind wander.

It was only then, now that her mind was clear, Sara realized how quiet it was, how empty the motel room felt. Where was Jamie?

"Where'd did Jamie go?" Sara asked quickly, gaining paranoia.

"She went to help Dean with the hunt," Sam simply replied.

Sara jerked her head to him, slightly shocked and taken off guard. Sam's mood lowered, the frown on his lips emphasizing the hardness of his eyes.

"They went back to the house?"

Sam shook his head. "They went to get more information. Before hunting anything Dean and I always did our fair share of research. With the two of us doing it together, everything came together more quickly and we would have the hunt done in a couple of days." Sam sighed. "Jamie wanted to help him, and there was nothing I could do to stop her. I think she's doing this for you."

Sara frowned. "Me?"

"The faster this hunt is over with, the more your safety is guaranteed."

"Oh, Jamie...," she murmured. "The faster we get this hunt done, the faster we can find your father and the faster we can find answers." She began to pace. "I understand where she's coming from."

Finally Sara took a seat on one of the mattresses. Sam lowered beside her. She inclined her head toward him.

"Is there anything I can do to help also?"

Sam sighed lightly. "Not at the moment." He looked away. A slight grin traced his boyish features. Dimples were visible on his cheeks as his chestnut brown bangs covered his eyes. "You and Jamie, you're both very diligent."

The corner of Sara's lips tipped up. "I grew up being stubborn and Jamie always felt the need to help people."

"But what I don't understand is how calm you two are," Sam said, his expression bewildered. "Jamie's boyfriend died, you were attacked twice, Jamie's dog was mutilated, and you almost died today... I don't get it. How can you guys take this all in so easily?"

"We don't."

Sam brought his eyes to hers, confusion written on his face.

"Ever since being kids, Jamie and I always learned to take everything in one step at a time. Life isn't easy, we always knew that and we never expected being favored or spoiled. What we knew, was that if we wanted anything done right, if we wanted to take control of our life, we needed to take the initiative and be independent. We never let anything stop us or set us back—including today. We concentrate to be calm when in reality life is full of shit and there's no God damn point to try as hard as we do. But, as I said before, I can be stubborn as hell and Jamie strives to make her life have a meaning."

Sara finally brought her eyes to his. "I'm worried, I really am. I was ready to take the next step with Andy, and it turned out I wasn't good enough for him. Demons want to kill me for God knows what. And I was almost killed with a pitchfork by a so called spirit. Nothing makes sense to me anymore, Sam, and before you think either of us is calm, it's only because we're putting on a mask and afraid of letting go of our control."

Sam stared at her for a very long time, his gaze commiserating. She looked away, inhaling sharply. Sara felt uncomfortable now for having bared her soul to a man she barely knew. There was something in Sam's eyes, almost a comparison to the eyes of a puppy who longed for attention. Sara couldn't help but express how she felt to him. Sam was easy to talk to, way too easy.

"You can't control everything Sara. Things happen, no one can control that."

Sara brought her eyes to his, listening with adherence.

Sam sent a sad smile. "It's okay to be afraid. We'll get through this together, alright? Demon or not, Dean and I will never let anything happen to you."

A slow smile formed upon Sara's lips. "Sounds like you got that line from a chick flick."

Sam lightly laughed. "You know, you remind me of my brother."

"Really? Whose prettier, me or Dean?"

"Do you really want me to answer that?"

"It's Dean, isn't it? I knew I couldn't compete with that curvy, dazzling figure of his," Sara remarked. Sam chuckled in response. She stared at him, her smile content, and her eyes warm. "Thanks Sam. Jamie and I, we'd be no where with out you—you and Dean."

"Don't mention it."

It boggled Sara at the fact how these men seemed totally at ease with protecting both Jamie and her. It was like her gratitude wasn't needed. But Sara wasn't satisfied. Dean and Sam didn't have to do this, they really didn't. It was then that Sara realized: they were helping without expecting anything back; they were protecting them to keep _them_ safe. Sam and Dean had no benefits over saving the two women.

She never discovered selfness less before. Not until now.

--

"Mr. Brown?" Dean addressed as they entered the small hospital room of 211.

The old man lay fragile on the hospital bed, thin bed sheets over his body, his skin almost as white as the sheets. He was flipping through the channels of the small television that was mounted into the corner. He turned his head at Dean's voice. Many crevices were visible on Charles face; his eyes like black hallow holes. His lips were thin, but turned up into a weak, polite smile.

"Yes? How can I help you?" he rasped. He cleared his throat which begun a series of coughs.

Dean waited until his throat was clear. "My name is Kris Warren; this is my partner Sandra Conner. We're reporters for the Marlin Times." Dean cast a quick look toward Jamie, gesturing for her to play along. "We were wondering if we could ask you a few questions."

Charles coughed before answering. "What would the Times want with an old man like me?"

"Well, we wanted to do a historical piece on Marlin history. We found articles relating thirteen years ago in 1993."

Charles frowned instantly.

"We understand that your grandson, Evan Williams, died that year."

Jamie shot her eyes at Dean. "You have our condolences," she said before Charles was able to reply.

Dean nodded his head. "And we also know that you almost saved his life."

"Almost isn't good enough," Charles whispered. His face appeared to be in pain. "My grandson lost his life because I simply couldn't swim."

"We are very sorry," Jamie replied.

"We wanted to write an article about your thoughts on that day." Charles gazed up at him, his eyes glazing. "If you don't mind," Dean quickly added.

"How'd you thought I felt? I watched my grandson drown while I was able to do nothin' to save him. I ran as quickly as I could to call nine-one-one, but I knew it would've been a while before anybody would show up."

Dean nodded. He needed to be quick with his questions. "Evan was buried, correct?"

Charles quickly shook his head. "My grandson was cremated."

Dean sighed inaudibly. "Well, thank you for your time, Charlie Brown—"

"Charles," Jamie coughed out.

"Charles Brown," Dean corrected himself. "We'll see ourselves out."

Charles smiled politely, however the sadness was still held in his eyes. He nodded his head toward their departure. His eyes averted away, looking past the wall and into his thoughts.

Jamie frowned at him, sympathetic to his feelings.

"C'mon," Dean murmured to her, grabbing her arm and gesturing her out the door.

Jamie closed the door behind her and the two walked down the hall. Dean was walking at a fast pace that Jamie did her best to try and catch up.

"So what now?" she wondered.

Dean glanced around the crowded halls and slightly shook his head. "We'll talk in the car."

Jamie didn't protest and simply followed him around the corner and toward the closest elevator. They went down the one floor in silence, exiting out the hospital toward the parking lot in quick strides.

Dean was silent, his brows pulled together in irritation. This time he didn't open the door for Jamie. He entered, unlocking the door for her. She jumped inside without hesitation.

"Dean…?" she called his name.

"This isn't the first time I've been in a hunt and the body was cremated," he explained.

"But I don't understand," Jamie admitted. "If the body is already cremated, why is the spirit still active?"

Dean began rubbing his eyes. Exhaustion was catching up to him. "Usually there is something—like an event—that will trigger the spirit of a person that lived in the place. In this case, Debbie is selling the farm."

"Do you think Evan could be scared? Mrs. Williams, his own mother, is leaving him to a buyer he doesn't even know. Maybe he's the one that caused all the injuries to the victims. He doesn't want to kill anybody…"

"He's just scared of being alone He's scared of moving on by him self," Dean finished for her. His tired eyes lightened up. "I think we have a motive."

Jamie smiled. Glad to have helped, even a little. "So, what's the plan?"

"It's getting dark. We'll grab some food and sleep it off. Tomorrow we'll figure out what we'll do." He inserted his key into the ignition, bringing the engine back to life.

Jamie fastened her seatbelt and leaned her back against the seat, inhaling deeply. Dean pulled out of the parking lot, taking the road that led back to the motel.

After a long silence that lingered, Dean felt compelled to speak.

"What do you feel like eating?"

Jamie shrugged. "I don't know. I'm really missing homemade food, but I guess that isn't an option, huh?"

Dean smirked. "Homemade food… Haven't had that in a long time."

"I'm a decent cook. Sara on the other hand…," Jamie trailed off. "She doesn't mind take out."

"You're not so keen on it?"

"Would I be rude if I answered yes?"

"Not at all." Dean glanced at her with a mocking smile. "Everyone's entitled to what they like. Maybe one day you can cook for us. Sam and I don't cook. We forgot what it's like not to have to pay for a pre made meal." Dean was then reluctant, gazing back at Jamie. "If you don't mind."

She shook her head, smiling sweetly. "It'd be my pleasure. It would be like old times."

"How so?"

"For a while, Sara and I lived together. I was the cook, she was… Well, she was like my child." Jamie laughed to herself.

"Just curious, but how old are you two?"

"Twenty-three," Jamie answered. "I'm older than Sara by three months."

Dean's brows rose. "Man, I feel old."

"How old are you? Twenty-four?" Jamie assumed.

Grinning to himself, Dean shook his head. "Twenty-six. My brother, Sam, is a year younger than you."

"Hm, I thought you were at least a year or two younger."

"Thanks," Dean replied sheepishly.

"You're welcome," Jamie said. "And Chinese."

"What?"

"I feel like eating Chinese."

Dean nodded his head. "Chinese it is then."

"Oh, I miss sushi."

Dean grimaced. "You eat that garbage?"

"Garbage? Have you even tried it? It's amazing."

"The thought of eating raw fish is just…" Dean trailed off and shivered. "No thanks."

Jamie laughed. "You know, Sara said the same thing. I finally convinced her to try it one day. She loves it now."

"Right," he snorted. "I'm still not trying it."

She smiled. "Suit yourself." She gazed out of the window. "Oh, I see one."

Without a word, Dean turned on his right signal, turning into the lot. He parked his Impala in the closest parking he could find. The two exited as soon as he turned off the engine and entered inside the restaurant.

The scent of freshly made food hit him like a stone cold iron bat. He forced himself to not let his mouth water. He was starving. He hadn't had the time to eat lunch.

"So, whadda you want?" he questioned.

It didn't take long to order and the line was minor. Both Jamie and Dean knew the likeliness of Sara and Sam's choices and ordered for them. After receiving their packaged meals, the two entered back into the Impala and drove back to the motel.

Dean pulled their room door open, letting Jamie enter first with dinner in her hands. He let the door close behind him as he followed after.

Sara was awake and either wasn't aware that they had returned or was just too preoccupied to care. She was crouched over the table, scribbling something onto the page of a black book with a mechanical pencil. Sam was bent over her, his hand atop the back rest of her chair while the other laid flat on the round table.

Sam lifted his head, acknowledging their entrance.

"Hey," he greeted.

"We brought dinner." Jamie lifted one of the bags. "We got Chinese today."

"Great," Sam replied.

Dean placed his share of bags over one of the chairs by the table. "What's going on here?"

"I thought I'd do you guys a favor and draw out of memory a brief sketch of one of the demons that attacked me a week or so ago." Sara answered, dropping the pencil. "It's not perfect, but it'll do for recognition." She shoved the book toward Dean.

He took it in his hands, studying the image of a woman's face. The face was young, yet the sadistic smile on her lips was anything but innocent. Her hair was wild and waved out in many directions. Her eyes were narrowed into slits.

Dean nodded his head. "This is perfect. Thanks."

"And you said she was short, right?" Sam inquired.

"Yeah. She was probably five-three, five-four—shorter than me. Her hair was a bright orange."

"What's with the smile?"

Sara frowned. "Every time I saw her—in this case, twice—she had that same smile. I think it would be the best way to match the sketch to the real thing."

"Do you mind if I rip it out?"

Sara shook her head toward Sam. "Be my guest."

Sam took the opportunity to carefully rip the sketch from the page of her sketch book, closing it and handing it back to her.

"So… You said Chinese?"

Jamie nodded her head.

Sara's eyes lightened. "Sushi?"

"Yep."

"Excellent."

Sam grimaced toward Dean, who also exchanged the look.

"I know…weird."

"You can't say anything unless you try it," Sara remarked. "Let's dig in. I'm starving."

"I second that motion."

Grabbing every object that was taking the space of the seats and table, the group placed them on the floor, replacing their spaces with themselves and the food cartons. The cartons were quickly passed on to each member of the group.

It was silent for several minutes as everyone concentrated on nurturing there deprived stomachs.

Jamie opened the plastic container that held her vegetarian sushi, ignoring the fork and taking it within her fingers. Dean watched her closely, his face slowly contorting with disgust.

Sara wanted to laugh out loud but held it in as best as she could, choking on some of her rice in doing so. Dean was like an adorable child, disgusted by the simplest of things.

"You okay?" Sam wondered as he observed Sara coughing a few times in her hand.

She nodded her head quickly averting her eyes toward Dean whom raised his brows incredulously and finally began eating his food.

"Um, so, what did you guys do before you got dinner?" Sara decided to strike up a conversation.

Jamie's eyes looked intent. "We met up with the grandfather of the boy I saw at the barn."

"Did he tell you?" Sam asked his brother.

Dean understood what he meant by the question. "The boy was cremated."

Sara blinked a few times. "Am I missing the message here? What are you talking about?"

"We went to talk to the grandfather to find out where the boy was buried," Jamie answered.

Sara's face paled. "And that would be significant how?"

"They need to burn the bones of the body in order to kill the spirit, Sara."

"Excuse me?"

"I know what you may be thinking," Sam began. "But I swear to you it's the only way to put the spirit to rest."

"It's a dirty job, but someone's got to it," Dean remarked.

Sara had nothing more to say. She gazed back at her food and kept silent as she chewed.

After the late dinner and a few short hours of cutting time, Jamie felt more then exhausted. A lot of questions ran through her mind. How would they bring the boy to the other side now that his body had already been cremated? If burning a dead body was another way to hunt, what other ghastly things did the brothers have to do to save lives?

She couldn't organize her thoughts to drain the pain from her headache anymore, the only thing that would stop the pulse of pain in her skull was if she closed her eyes and drifted into a deep sleep.

Jamie grabbed her duffel bag and walked into the washroom, taking off the clothes and replacing them with red plaid pajama pants and a gray thin strapped tank top. She pulled her bronze curls into a messy bun and washed her face before exiting out and plopping onto the bed her and Sara would be sharing.

Sara felt the need to follow her example. Even the nap she took earlier didn't nourish her body and she couldn't stand watching reruns of _I Love Lucy_ on the shit box they called a TV anymore.

She sat up from her seat and reached through her duffel bag for a black tank top and gray sweat pants.

"Hitting the sack too?"

Sara jumped at the voice, and cursed herself for forgetting that Dean was still in the room. Sam had his face in his arms, supposedly sleeping as far as she could tell, beside him.

Dean watched her stand straight, wincing a bit in doing so. Her injuries still hurt her, he could tell. Sara turned to him and slightly smiled.

"You two got me waking up earlier than I'm used to. I better get my extra hours of sleep while I still have the chance."

Dean grinned and took a quick swing at the brown pop he was drinking. He put down the can, twisting it on the table a couple of times.

"Sara?" He called.

She quickly regained her balance from stopping so abruptly before entering the washroom.

"Yeah?"

Dean opened his mouth. He wanted to ask her about her mother, for what reason, he didn't know. Something within his mind was curious about the answer. But he knew it wasn't his right to know. He would be a hypocrite for asking. Dean was sure, if someone he barely knew asked him about his mom, he would simply say it was none of their business. He couldn't ask the question, not until their relationship was more solid. But he did have something else to say that would replace the question.

"About today," he started, looking up at her. "I'm sorry I put you through danger like that. I guess I should have kept a better eye on you. I mean, if I wasn't there to pull you away, you'd probably be—"

"Don't say it," she quickly interrupted. "I don't really want to think about what could have happened." She scratched her nose absently. "Thanks for saving me—again. Um, if you need any help with the hunt, I'll help too."

"Are you sure you want to do that?"

"Think of it as a pay back."

Without another word, she entered inside the washroom, closing the door behind her.

Dean blew out a breath and looked over at his brother. Sam was indisputably not sleeping, his eyes gazing at him.

"Eavesdropping?" Dean assumed with a cocked brow.

"Looks like you pulled the girls on your side."

"What are you talking about?"

Sam lifted his head from his arms. "They both rather help than be in the way."

"Have you noticed that they might be taking this all in too easily?" Dean whispered.

Sam shook his head. "They're scared, Dean. But they're afraid if they let their fear lose their control that things will get worse. It seems like they're taking it in easily, but really they're just bottling up their emotions inside because they don't want to disappoint us or cause any trouble."

"They're trying to make this easier for us?"

"Exactly."

"Huh," Dean murmured thoughtfully. "These girls…they're something."

--

The sun beamed as little as it could through the thin drapes that sheltered the window. Dean groaned irritably at the light peeking through his arms. He lifted his head from resting on the table, opening his eyes groggily. A sharp pain ran through his neck, and he let his forehead rest on his forearm a little longer until the pain went away. When it subsided, he lifted his head and observed his surroundings.

He fell asleep on the table while watching television. It was still on, the volume so low he could barely hear it. He grabbed the black remote that was only a few inches away from his fingers and switched the television off.

Dean ran his hand down his face, trying to rub off his fatigue. He looked across the room, toward the two queens sized beds. Sara and Jamie were fast asleep, curled up under the bed sheets on their own queen. Sam, on the other hand, was laid sprawled on the queen beside theirs, the sheets hanging off the mattress.

The next time they went to a motel, Dean would make sure they got separate rooms. He couldn't stand sharing a bed with his brother anymore. Sam always took over the whole bed like the Sasquatch he was.

His legs felt stiff as he stood on his feet. Briskly, Dean angled his back, listening in for the satisfying cracks. He dragged his feet toward the window, pulling apart the drapes, letting the bright sun blare inside the room.

"Rise and shine, kids," he said loudly.

Groans were thrown back to him in response. He glanced at the clock briefly and found that it was about a few minutes after nine.

Sam lifted his face off the pillow and looked up at his brother. His eyes looked droopy, his brows lifted in bewilderment. Sam looked over at the clock, sighed and sat up. He rubbed his hand over his cheek, feeling the imprint of the pillow's creases and entered the washroom.

Jamie lifted her head also, yawning loudly. She blinked a few times at the light pouring in and then slammed her head back onto her pillow.

"Sara," she called and looked over at her friend.

Sara was huddled under the sheets, hiding from the light. Jamie pulled the sheet as far away from her body as she could. Sara groaned in agitation, slamming her pillow over her face.

Sighing, Jamie exchanged a glance with Dean whom cocked a brow and grinned.

"What time is it?" A muffled voice came from underneath the pillow.

"Just a few minutes after nine," Dean boomed as he walked toward his bed, reaching for his duffel bag. "I suggest you get up."

"Gravy." Sara pulled the pillow from her face and turned to look up at the ceiling. "What are our activities for today?"

"I'm going to call Debbie, and tell her we'll be coming by to see the place again."

Sara sat up, gazing at Dean intently. "We're going back?"

At the tone of her voice, Dean jerked his head up. Was that fear in her eyes? "There has to be something there that this spirit is attached to. If we destroy that, then we destroy the spirit."

Sara was silent.

"Sara, you okay?" Jamie whispered to her, placing a hand on her arm.

"If you're not ready…" Dean trailed off. "I figured, when you said you would help, that you would be fine going back to the farm."

"No, no, that's okay. You caught me off guard, which was stupid of me," she blabbered. "It was common sense that we were going back to the farm. I wasn't thinking…"

Jamie observed Sara's pale face. She turned to the older brother. "Dean, do you mind if I have a few words with Sara alone?"

Dean seemed hesitant for a moment. "Yeah, sure—I'll just go pack the car."

Throwing the duffel bag over his shoulder, Dean grabbed his keys from the table and walked out the door, closing it behind him.

"What?"

Jamie sighed. "Sara, I know you. You don't want to go back there."

"I don't have a choice."

"Yes you do!" Jamie gripped her shoulders. "Sara, please stop trying to act brave for once in your life, nothing good comes out of it. If you're frightened, admit it. No more pretending."

"When did I ever pretend to be brave?" Sara sneered.

Jamie frowned. "Everyday since you entered the orphanage," she whispered.

Sara closed her eyes. "Please, please, don't be reminding of those times. _Please_."

"Sara, you've always had a bad way of dealing with things. Let me help you!"

"Look, I'm fine. I'll go there blindfolded if I have to. I'm not scared." Sara stood off the bed, pacing across the room.

"The tears you shed yesterday told me a different story…"

Sara's body tensed. She stilled at mid step.

"You have every right to be afraid, you know that. You were jumped by demons, Sara. They sent you to the hospital. Tell me that did not frighten you!"

Sara kept her back to her, but her head lowered.

"The injuries that they gave you, they still hurt, don't they? I can see you grit your teeth sometimes." Jamie stood from the bed herself. "If you need a break, just let me know. I'll talk to the guys for you. I'm sure they'll understand."

"No."

Jamie furrowed her brows. "No? What does that mean—no?"

Sara finally turned to her. "I mean no. No telling the guys that my body still aches as I walk, stretch, whatever. No telling them that I'm scared of going back to that farm—scared of almost being killed by that spirit again. No telling them anything, Jamie."

"Why won't you let me help you?"

"Because…," Sara inhaled, "because my fears and injuries will just get in the way, like they did back then. I'm not going to slow anybody down this time. We are going to kill this spirit today and go back to searching for the brothers' father. I want these demons off our backs. I want us to get back to our normal lives. I don't want any of _this_ right now."

"Don't want what, Sara?"

"I don't want the chance of losing you too, not because I was weak. Not this time."

Jamie was silent for a moment.

"Sara, does this have something to do with your—"

The door drew open, Dean entered in. "Um, I'm not interrupting, am I?"

"No," Sara quickly answered.

"Okay good," he said to himself. "Is my brother still in the washroom?"

"I think so…," Jamie replied with reluctance.

Just then, the door to the washroom opened and Sam stepped outside.

"Speak of the devil."

"What's up?" Sam greeted.

"Well, I was thinking. If the boy was cremated then there has to be something in the house that the spirit is attached to."

Sam nodded his head, completely disregarding the women. "It could be a childhood toy, it could be anything."

"Which is why I thought we call Mrs. Williams, tell her we're on our way to look around again. We can get a better look at the house. With any luck we'll find something."

"Alright, do you have her number?"

"I grabbed a phone book while packing the Impala," Dean informed, slamming the book on the table. Dean gazed toward the two women. "You two get ready while we call, okay?"

The two nodded their heads, both grabbing clothes and heading toward the washroom.

"I have to talk to you about them," Sam whispered. "But not now."

Dean opened his mouth to question him, but decided against it. Instead, he opened the phone book and began reading through the names. It wasn't long until the Williams' name was found listed. Dean pulled out his cell phone, his finger on the name as he dialed the number. Sam took a seat, watching his brother as he listened for an answer on the other line.

"Hello, Debbie Williams? It's Dean…uh Dean…"

"Anderson," Sam piped in.

"Dean Anderson," he continued on the phone. "Yeah, I was just calling to mention to you that we would like to come by again, look around the place once more before we make a decision."

Sam's brows furrowed as he watched his brother's face slowly flatten.

"You don't understand, today is our last day in town…we can be in and out—" Dean silenced for a moment, his frown tightening. "Alright, sorry to have bothered you." With that said, he flipped the phone closed.

"So?" Sam prompted.

"Something's up," Dean answered. "She was way too evasive."

"What did she say?"

"Something like 'it wasn't a good time' and 'can you come by another day?'."

"We're still going, aren't we?"

Dean nodded his head. "Definitely. I want this spirit gone and us to be out of this state today. C'mon, help me get everything in the car."

Nodding his head in agreement, Sam grabbed his bag, along with the women's and took them outside. Dean took the liberty of unlocking and opening the trunk for him as he threw the bags inside.

"Leave the trunk open, the girls might want to put their extra clothes in their bags or something," Dean mentioned.

Sam gazed over at their motel room, chewing on his lip.

"Dean, I was listening in on them talking while I was in the washroom," Sam began.

Averting his eyes, Dean gave his brother a mocking grin. "I think eavesdropping is becoming a bad habit for you."

"I'm worried, Dean. There's a lot we don't know about these women. We don't even know what half the stuff they're telling us is the truth."

Dean's grin faltered. "What do you think?"

"I think that maybe they aren't lying, but I still don't know anything about them. Look, I over heard them arguing. Sara is determined to keep secrets from us."

"What secrets?" Dean's face became skeptical.

"The injuries she got when she was attacked by the two demons, they still hurt her."

"Huh." Dean looked up at Sam. "You know, I did notice how she tends to tense when she stands or moves a certain way."

"And she's afraid of going back to the farm."

Dean's lips straightened.

"Dean, I know it wasn't you fault. What happened yesterday just happened." Sam frowned. "Sara has no intention on telling us anything that's bothering her, so I thought we might take it a little slower for her. As much as we can."

He nodded his head. "I'll keep my eye on her when we get to the farm."

Sam nodded also.

"Uh, guys to you have our bags?"

The brothers quickly jerked away from their conversation.

"We packed them here," Sam informed. He brought a hand to the trunk, holding it up as both Jamie and Sara placed their used clothing into their significant bags. After Sara grabbed whatever she was looking for in her bag, Sam closed the trunk.

"I'm going to drop off the keys at the front desk," Dean announced.

It was only a matter of minutes before he returned. "Ready?" Dean questioned.

The women gave him each a nod as they entered the backseat of the Impala. Jamie gazed at Sara questionably as she was tying up her fresh wet hair into a high ponytail. Sara avoided her eyes while Dean pulled out of the parking lot and onto public road.

The ride was silent as Dean drove down the familiar paved road. As soon as the group reached near the entrance to the farm, Dean slowed the Impala to a stop.

Sam glanced at him. "What's wrong?"

"She's just pulling out."

Confused, Sam and the women gazed out the window to see the old blue truck that Debbie Williams owned, driving down the dirt road from the house.

Almost immediately, Dean began backing up the car and reversing into a narrow dirt trail that led toward another residency. The tall grass covered the Impala well as the group spied at the truck from the crevices between the strands of grass.

The truck finally turned on public road and quickly sped down the path, speeding passed the Impala and down the road, clouds of dirt following behind it.

"Where's she going?" Sam wondered.

"I don't know, but nows a good time to look around the place."

Dean brought the car forward with unnecessary force, speeding towards the dirt entrance and toward the farm.

Sara gazed out of her window, her eyes potentially wide. She swallowed down the lump in her throat. She could do this, she knew she could. She'd taken risks before, why not now?

_Because the risks were never life threatening._

Sara immediately silenced her thoughts.

Dean turned off the engine to his vehicle and exited out along with the others. Sara was hesitant.

"Um, guys? We're not really going to break into the place are we?" Jamie questioned guiltily.

Sam smiled sadly at her. "It's our only choice."

"Breaking the law is needed to do any hunt," Dean added.

Jamie sighed, staring at the house. "So I've noticed."

"We gotta be in and out quickly. We don't know when she'll be back," Dean explained as he walked around the Impala.

He lifted his trunk open, pushing the duffel bags further in the back. Lifting the hidden compartment, he placed a shotgun under the lid; keeping it lifted in place. Pulling out what looked to be a sawed-off shotgun, he passed it to his brother along with some shells.

"Are those real shotgun shells?" Sara asked quietly.

"They're rock salt," Sam answered. "In many cultures salt is considered very pure."

"Shooting the spirits with these bad boys wards them off," Dean added. "But only for a short while."

With a shotgun also in his hand, Dean closed the secret compartment, followed by the trunk.

The women followed behind the boys as they strode up the stairs to the porch. Dean opened the screen door for Sam as he bent down on one knee in front of the lock for the wooden door.

Sam pulled out a silver instrument. Sara assumed it to be a lock picking utensil considering she had seen one used before in the movies.

As Sam began picking the lock, Sara gazed behind her, observing her surroundings. She crossed her arms over her chest. The paranoia was returning and it concerned her.

"Got it," Sam announced and pushed the door open.

Dean entered the house first, his sawed-off shotgun upright. With slow steps, he walked further into the darkened foyer.

Sam motioned the women to enter in first before he stepped in also.

All of the windows were enclosed by curtains, the atmosphere seeming drearier. The brown wallpaper made the place appear even darker.

"Okay, we should split up to cover more ground," Dean informed, bringing the shotgun down. He turned to the group. "Jamie you go with Sam, and stay with him at all times. Sara and I will check the upper levels. You two got the lower."

Jamie and Sam nodded in unison.

"C'mon Jamie," Sam said, walking into the next room, shotgun at the ready. Jamie kept near.

Sara let out a shaky breath as they disappeared from view.

"You okay?" Dean asked.

Sara returned his gaze. "Yeah."

Dean slightly nodded and gestured his head toward the doorway to their left. "C'mon, the stairs are that way. Stay close."

Sara said nothing as she followed after him, her arms still crossed.

_Keep your arms and legs in the ride at all times, no doubt._

The steps creaked loudly as they walked up the stairs. Sara cringed at every step. The last thing she wanted was to announce to the spirit that they were in the house. Sara kept the distance between her and Dean tight, Jamie's words swimming nauseously in her mind.

_Sara, you've always had a bad way of dealing with things._

That statement hurt her more than she thought it would. The truth always did hurt; however, she denied it as much as she could. She was frightened, yes, but the only person she'd admit that to would be herself. The Winchesters didn't need to know, Jamie didn't need to know. But as she followed after Dean, she could feel her heart pounding so fast and so loudly that she wondered if he could hear it. Could he hear her heart drumming rapidly within her chest?

She placed her hand on over her cardiac muscle, feeling the vibrations within her palm.

So preoccupied and distracted by her hearts rhythm, Sara hadn't realized that Dean had stopped walking. An arm quickly blocked her path and Sara immediately jumped at the touch. She could feel her heart beat faster under her palm, almost as if the beats had no pause in between. Sara shot her eyes on Dean, her eyes frighteningly wide.

She hadn't been paying attention. Why did they stop? Was the spirit near? Her breath was caught in her throat.

Sara could see confusion in his eyes and then what seemed to be understanding, followed by sympathy. The expression on his face then became impassive.

"Sara, I want you to stay calm, you understand me?" His voice was serene. "Spirits can sense fear."

Sara wanted to open her mouth to argue but she knew she'd feel foolish if she did. Fear was written all over her face. Her eyes showed Dean everything. She tightened her lips shut, deciding against saying absolutely anything.

"Do you trust me?"

Sara furrowed her brows then. "What?"

"Do you trust me?" He repeated in the same serious tone.

She had to think before answering. Yes she did not personally know him, and yes he was a stranger, but how many times had this man saved her? She trusted Dean with her life without hesitation before, then why was she reluctant to answer?

"…Yeah, I do." Sara felt unsure but her voice was strong as she said this.

"Then trust me when I say: I won't let anything happen to you."

Sara gazed into Dean's hardened face. Was he saying this because of what happened earlier?

_Crash_.

The two jerked their heads in the direction of the noise. At that instant, Dean lifted his gun and moved cautiously forward. Sara followed along closely.

Dean leaned his head, trying to get a better look through the partly opened door to his right which led to another room. He turned his head to Sara, bringing his finger to his lips, signaling for silence, and then pointed toward the door.

Sara swallowed down the bile in her throat but matched his every step. Dean slowed to a stop when he reached the door. He brought his hand toward the doors surface and with a quick motion, pushed it open. Entering inside with quick steps, Dean aimed his shotgun toward a blurred figure.

Dean brought his finger to the trigger, and shot the spirit with a swift motion. But as soon as the blast shattered the silence, the spirit disappeared through the wall, followed by the rock salt penetrating it.

Lowering his gun, Dean pursed his lips.

"Damn."

--

"So Dean mentioned we needed to find an object that pertained to Evan?" Jamie asked.

Sam nodded his head as he looked around the place. "At times, spirits can be found in places because they are tied to a certain object. Usually we would look for something that could relate to the spirit. In this case, Evan is a child, so we figure it being a childhood toy or something."

"Huh." Jamie continued after him. "But that could be anything. How do you know which object is the right one?"

"The spirit is usually the most protective of it."

Jamie nodded her head in understanding as they walked across the enclosed kitchen. She observed the untouched dishes in the sink and the half eaten food on the table.

"That's odd," she stated. She walked toward the table and studied the barely eaten plate of food. She gazed back at Sam who tilted his head with confusion. "This food was barely touched."

Sam came forward, looking down at the uneaten meal. "Debbie Williams did look like she was going somewhere in a hurry." Sam's face seemed calculating.

_Bang_.

As soon as the noise hit her ears, Jamie jumped.

"Was that a gun shot?" she asked in a startled voice.

"It's Dean," Sam answered quickly. "C'mon!"

Sam jolted out of the room, motioning Jamie to follow. Reluctant at first, she broke into a sprint, trying to catch up to the speed of Sam's long legs.

But that's when she saw it.

Once the figure caught the corner of her eye, Jamie skidded to a halt. She looked widely toward the big eyes of the little boy that stood more than a foot away from her. How did Sam not see him?

The little boy's bright blue eyes seemed to be emphasized by the dark circles that framed it, His freckles more evident on his pale face. His blond hair was wet and flat on his head, draping over his eyes. The white T-shirt and shorts he wore were soaked and drenched with water, dripping onto the carpet beneath him. But what really got Jamie's attention was the expression on his face. His eyes wide with fear, his lips in a tight frown. The spirit looked more frightened of her then she was of it.

"Jamie, what are you doing?"

The boy jerked at Sam's voice and suddenly began running.

"Wait!" Jamie called out to the boy. Before she knew it, she was following after him.

"Jamie—don't!" Sam shouted, but she had already darted out the door.

Running down the flight of stairs of the porch, Jamie ceased her steps. Looking around her swiftly, she became confused. She was sure the boy ran out here.

Just then, she spotted him running around the corner of the house. Jamie jumped back into a sprint.

"Jamie! Hey!" Sam yelled out as he jolted out the front door.

She could hear him and she wasn't ignoring Sam. But this was the only way to see what the spirit really wanted. He was scared of something, and maybe, just maybe, he would show her what.

As she continued after the spirit, Jamie realized he was leading her toward the barn like he had before. Was that his place of sanctuary?

The spirit disappeared within the walls of the barn, and Jamie took no hesitation of opening the doors and stepping in. She ignored Sam's heavy steps behind her. Her attention attended the boy as he ran across the barn.

Jamie panted as she stopped, ceasing her sprinting. "Wait!" she rasped. "Evan!"

At the sound of his name, the boy stopped. It was silent for a few minutes as the two stood there. That is until Sam entered through the doors of the barn.

"Jamie—" He quickly cut himself off.

"Evan? That's your name right?" Jamie continued, her steps slow as she moved forward.

Sam quickly caught her elbow, holding her back. Jamie didn't writhe.

The boy slowly turned around, his big blue eyes staring toward the woman.

"How do you know my name?" His voice was barely above a whisper.

"Evan, we're here to help you," Jamie replied. "But first you need to help us understand. Why did you hurt all those people?"

"I—I was scared," he answered. "Momma was going to leave if they lived here. I was going to be alone. I don't wanna be alone."

"Evan, honey, you know your mother isn't going to stay here forever," Jamie replied sincerely. "_You_ can't stay here forever."

"No," the little boy said loudly. "I'm scared."

"I know."

"I don't want to go just yet." Evan appeared to be in tears now. "I want to see my papa. I want to see him. But he's been gone for too long."

"Papa?" Jamie whispered to herself.

"His grandfather…"

Jamie gazed back at Sam questionably.

"I want to talk to my papa." Evan frowned. "I don't want to go unless I see him again."

"Evan, if you see your papa," Sam started slowly, "will you finally rest?"

The little boy slightly smiled then, tears falling down his already dampened face.

Suddenly the barn doors slammed open, and as soon as the sound interrupted the silence, Evan's spirit vanished into thin air, the crying boy gone from their eyes.

"Is everything alright?" Dean asked desperately. "We heard a commotion."

Dean and Sara had been the one to startle the spirit, entering with abruptness and both panting with debility.

Jamie gazed hard toward the spot Evan had stood, frowning.

"Jamie found the spirit," Sam answered. "We followed it here."

"Evan isn't tied down to any object," Jamie chimed in. "There's only one thing that's keeping him here. He wants to see his grandfather one last time…"

"Charles Brown?" Dean asked. Sam nodded. "And how do you know this?"

Jamie then turned around to the group. Her face seemed paler than usual, her multicoloured eyes glossy.

"Because he told us."

--

"Debbie, dear, calm down."

Debbie Williams shook her head at her father that lay on his hospital bed, watching her as she paced back and forth across the room. Her stomach made low growls, complaining with the lack of food she consumed this morning before leaving it at her table and speeding off here.

"I can't, I just can't. I saw him, Dad, I saw him!" Her voice was beginning to crack through the tears that began cascading down her pale cheeks. "He was standin' right there in the kitchen! Right there!"

"Who was?"

Debbie ceased her steps and looked up at her father. The sight he saw broke his heart.

"My…my son…my Evan."

Charles face tightened, his eyes hard as stone. "What are you talkin' about?"

"I was sittin' there, on my table, eatin' my breakfast like every morning. I looked up, and there he was, standin' there, starin' at me—" Debbie broke off and began to sob. "He—He was soaked to his toes. He looked the same as—as…"

_As the day he died_.

"I don't understand," Charles replied after a long moment.

"What is there to understand? My Evan was right there in front of me!" Debbie yelled hysterically. "As soon as I saw him, I ran out of the house! I ran! I ran from my own son!" She quieted for a moment, breathing in some air. "And then I took the truck and came straight here as fast as I could."

"Evan couldn't be alive…"

"No, he couldn't be…"

Both father and daughter stared at each other, her eyes longing for answers, holding questions that kept listing down the page.

A knock then came at the door.

"Yes?" Debbie answered, quickly wiping the tears from her eyes.

The door opened slightly ajar, a nurse's head popping through the gap. "Mr. Brown? The reporters from the Marlin Times have come to speak to you again."

"Reporters?" Debbie questioned.

Charles disregarded his daughter's confusion. "Tell them that this isn't a good time."

"They insist that it's urgent."

Charles sighed. "Send them in."

The nurse fully opened the door then, letting the group enter with Dean as the leader. The nurse nodded to the two women and men and exited out the room, closing the door behind her.

"You…," Debbie whispered with sudden distrust and uncertainty.

"Debbie, do you know these people?"

"You're not reporters," she accused, narrowing her eyes.

"We can explain everything—," Sam began.

"Who are you? Why have you been visitin' my father behind my back?!" Debbie shouted.

"Debbie, have you met them before?" Charles asked his daughter.

"They're not reporters," Debbie replied simply. "And I'm sure you don't want to buy the farm. Who are you and what do you want with me and my father?"

Her motherly voice kicked in, demanding answers.

"Okay, yes, we're not reporters and we don't want to buy your farm," Dean confessed.

"Then who are you?" Debbie asked through clench teeth. "And what do you want with us?"

"It's not what we want with you, it's what we want with your son," Dean answered quickly.

Debbie seemed to freeze her already tense posture.

"What do you want with my son?"

Jamie observed the look of fear in her eyes, the uncertainty. She quickly put the puzzle together. "You saw him, didn't you?"

Debbie's eyes glazed over, her brows furrowing with worry. "I—I…"

"If you are not reporters, I think it'd be respectful if you four introduce without lyin' through your teeth," Charles said in a firm tone.

"My name is Sam. This is Dean, Sara and Jamie."

"We came down here after hearing reports of unexplained injuries that have happened here in Marlin," Dean added. "All the injuries happening to buyers who were interested in a small farm of the William's plantation."

Charles bushy brows furrowed with confusion and quickly glanced toward his daughter. Debbie avoided his stare.

"You never told me this…," he whispered to her.

Debbie swallowed hard, and lowered her head, ashamed.

"You were going to sell the farm?"

Sam looked over at Debbie before continuing. "We decided to investigate, posing as potential buyers. And then Sara here was attacked like the others."

Embarrassed, Sara cross her arms and averted her eyes away from the old man.

"I worked on some research and found out what was causing all this," Dean said, his gaze on the older woman. "Your son, Evan."

"That's impossible!" Debbie snapped. "Evan has been dead for thirteen years!"

Sam nodded, empathetic. "It's true that he has passed thirteen years ago. But Evan's spirit is still very much attached to the farm."

"His spirit?"

"You see, after Debbie posted a For Sale sign on the lot and buyers began pulling in, Evan's spirit acted. He injured all those victims. Evan was afraid."

Debbie Williams looked up at Sam, her eyes in focus. "Afraid?"

"Evan knew that you were going to move to the city. His spirit was going to be alone in a house that would be inhabited by strangers. He was frightened of being left by himself," Jamie entered.

Sam nodded to her, agreeing. "He injured those buyers to scare them away; to keep them away from the house so there would be no opportunity for you to leave."

"His spirit has been causin' all this?" Debbie collapsed at the foot of her father's bed. "My son is hauntin' the farm? But how?"

Dean cleared his throat. "Spirits are born through a violent death, unfinished business, whatever the circumstance. At first we expected Evan's spirit to have been born from a violent death—as you said Mr. Brown—he had died from drowning. But now we also believe that he may have some unfinished business."

"He wants to see his grandfather one last time," Jamie spoke, repeating what Evan had told her.

"We think, that if you, sir, go to the farm and talk to Evan, he may be able to rest in peace," Sam explained.

"No!" Debbie jumped to her feet. "I will not allow it!"

"Please, ma'am, it's the only—"

She interrupted Dean, pointing a finger to his chest. "I will not let my father be subjected to somethin' so dangerous. He recently had a heart attack, doesn't that mean anythin' to you?!"

"If I talk to Evan, will he stop injurin' people? Will he finally go to heaven?" Charles spoke up.

"Evan is afraid of going to the other side. He needs to be convinced that it's the right thing to do, and you're the only one that can do it," Jamie replied.

"My father will not do anythin' of the sort. He's going to stay in this hospital where he is safe! Who are you four anyway? Ghostbuster wannabes?"

"We hunt the supernatural to save lives, which includes all the victims that have become victimized by your son," Dean answered in a firm tone. His patience with this woman had worn out to a thin line.

Sam placed a hand on his shoulder. "Calm down."

"Are you saying it was my fault that Evan has been attackin' those people?" Debbie snarled. "Like I even knew that—"

"Deb, that's enough!" Charles shouted.

"We have a chance to stop this once and for all, and you choose to do the opposite!" Dean barked back. "Do you want your son to continue his violent acts to innocent people?"

"I said, that's enough!"

"Evan would never do such a thing'. There is no spirit. You're just extremely confused. All of those incidents were nothin' more than accidents! Just accidents!"

"Please, be quiet!"

"I think it's safe to say that the many accidents have some significance toward one another. And in saying that, they're no longer considered accidents but a series of phenomenon! And in case you didn't know, phenomenon is a term used for an event that unusual, extraordinary, and supernatural!"

"Stop it—" Charles stopped his command, holding his chest as he took heavy breaths.

Debbie and Dean concluded their glaring contest, gazing toward the old man. Debbie ran to her father's side, holding his shoulders.

"You've overexerted my father! I want you four to get the hell out!" she demanded.

"No—," Charles choked out as he began to cough. "I'll—I'll do it." He took in a few short breaths. "…I will go see Evan, I will help him."

"What?" his daughter exclaimed. "Dad, you're in no condition to go—"

"I don't want to hear anythin' else from you," Charles replied. "I may be in poor condition, but I am still your father. This discussion is closed. Enough with the arguin', do you hear me?"

Debbie was silent.

"I said, do you hear me?"

"Yes…"

"Good." Charles cleared his soar throat. "Now, we can take up the doctor's offer on lettin' me go home."

"But he'll ask about the wheel chair conditions," Debbie said.

"Never mind that. Convince him otherwise," he ordered.

Debbie nodded her head with obedience and stood from the bed. She passed the group without a word and walked out of the room.

The room was silent for a moment, until a short chuckle sneaked through the silence.

Charles looked up at the group, a tear rolling down his cheek. "To think that I thought I would never get the opportunity to apologize to my grandson for lettin' him die in such a way. God has given me a second chance."

It was only a few short minutes before Debbie Williams returned with a doctor. The four were told to leave the room considering the confidentiality between the family. They complied without hesitation, waiting out the time in the hall, the door to room 211 closed.

Sam leaned against the wall with Jamie by his side. Sara decided to take a seat against the wall across, while Dean paced in front of her.

Sam watched his brother closely, his brows furrowed with worry.

"Why'd you have to blow up like that, Dean?" His voice was almost a whisper.

Dean stopped pacing, glancing at Sam quickly. "Because that woman was getting on my last nerve. It's as if she didn't care that it was her fault that all those innocent people got hurt, not to mention that Sara was almost part of that group."

"But it wasn't her fault," Sara said. "She's just worried about her father, that's why she was so defensive."

"Well, in any case, Charles Brown is still going to help us to get Evan's spirit out of that farm."

"The only problem is: will the doctor let him go so easily?" Jamie said.

The group quieted, all in thought about what Jamie had deduced.

Their thoughts were interrupted, however, as the doctor stepped out of the room. The group stared at him, watching as he passed without either glance on the four. He walked down the hall. The four exchanged glances, their gazes held wonder.

It was barely a few minutes before the doctor returned with a nurse, carrying a folded up wheel chair. The group blew out a breath of relief.

Dean, Sam, Jamie and Sara did not have to wait very long as Charles Brown packed his belongings, Debbie pushing his wheelchair forward, toward freedom. His daughter had been silent now that Charles used his authority, clinching what control he still had on her.

Sam had made an agreement with the two (Dean had no will power to confront Debbie Williams) that they would meet up at the farm, Charles with Debbie in her blue old truck, while the others took Dean's Impala.

Dean arrived at the farm faster, parking out front of the William's estate.

Turning off the engine of his prized treasure, Dean jumped out along with his brother. The women followed their example, reaching for their doors and exiting. The brothers said not one word to one another as they walked toward the trunk of the Impala, lifting it open and taking what was necessary.

"I don't think Debbie will comply if you plan to bring arsenal with you to see her son," Jamie inquired as she observed the sawed-off shotgun.

Dean stared at her for a moment, and then at his only defense. He sighed. "You're right."

Instead of placing it back where Jamie assumed he would, Dean hid it inside his jacket before her. Jamie met his eyes and he sent a quick smile. She couldn't help but return it, even if he was contradicting her advice.

Just then, a loud booming roar could be heard from the distance. The four looked back to the old blue truck moving forward, passed the Impala and back into its designated space.

Sam quickly closed the trunk to the Impala and shoved his hands in his pockets, approaching Charles Brown and Debbie Williams. He helped Debbie assist with getting Charles onto the wheel chair.

Assuming that the heart attack must have been so severe that he couldn't walk, not for a while anyway, Charles still appeared lively and well.

"So, what now?" Debbie questioned, her expression soured. She was still worried.

"We go to the area where Evan's spirit has been most spotted," Dean replied, keeping a poker face.

"The barn," Sara spoke up.

"Yes, that was always Evan's favourite place," Charles replied. He looked up at his daughter and nodded her forward.

Sam exchanged a glance with Dean, whom nodded, his hand still in his jacket. Dean gently nudged Sara forward, after Jamie.

It seemed at that moment, time had slowed down. Each step was taking longer than the next, but it couldn't be the time. Anticipation had begun to settle in. Was this really happening? Will this hunt finally be done and over with? Will we finally move on? Sara almost smiled at the thought, but kept her face straight and serious.

Sam walked ahead, pulling the door open for the group. It was quiet as they entered inside, Charles and Debbie in the lead. Debbie stopped the wheelchair a few paces away from the others, looking around with caution. Her eyes studying everything with uncertainty, observing the safety of all stray objects that hung from the walls and even the pillars that supported the barn it self. But then, a stronger emotion overlapped her paranoia.

She would see her son; she will actually be standing in front of her son, without running away this time. She swallowed the bile down her throat. Was her father also feeling perturbed?

"Should we call for him?" Jamie whispered toward Sam.

He shook his head. "Give him time, he'll come."

"But what if I was wrong?" she then questioned. "What if—"

"Don't worry about it. I was there too, remember? He wants to see his grandfather one last time, that's what he said. There is no way you could be wrong," Sam reassured.

Jamie only nodded her head, agreeing with his statement.

"Evan?" Charles spoke up. "Evan, are you there? Please answer me."

There was no answer and the silence was almost suffering.

Debbie frowned. This was stupid, there was no spirit, what she saw this morning was not her son, it was her imagination. How could her father be so naive? "I knew this was a mistake, we—"

"Papa?"

The voice was almost ghostly, echoing in the atmosphere like the wind on a windy day. Everyone could hear Debbie's hands tighten on the rubber handles of Charles' wheelchair.

"Yes, Evan, it's me." Charles began to smile brightly, his eyes glazing as he heard that familiar voice he hadn't heard for thirteen years. "Don't be afraid. Come out, please."

There was a good minute of silence, but that had been the longest minute the group had ever experienced.

From the shadows of the barn, a young boy appeared. A sad smile was held on his lips as he stared toward Charles only. After a moment, the boy looked at his mother.

Debbie's hands shook as she stared at her son.

Evan's smile began to falter as he watched his mother's face.

"Evan…," Charles said. Tears had finally spilled down his cheeks.

Evan looked back at his grandfather. "Hello, Papa."

"I—It's so great to…to see you again." Charles sniffled. "There's so much I have to say sorry for."

Evan tilted his head. "For what, Papa?"

Charles inhaled a sharp breath. "I did this to you; I'm the one that did it."

"Dad," Debbie choked out. Her eyes never left her son.

He only continued. "I let you drown Evan. I let you drown in that water."

Evan's face fell. "No you didn't. You did everything you could." He smiled again. "I'm happy. You came back. I missed you."

Charles tried clearing his throat, wiping away the tears in his eyes.

"Evan, these men have been tellin' me that you have been hurtin' people. Is this true?"

Evan looked down for a moment, avoiding eye contact now. "I was scared. I had Momma beside me all this time and then these strangers came who wanted to buy the house. Momma was going to leave; she was going to leave without me."

"Evan, honey"—Debbie exasperated—"I'm so sorry." The tears had left her eyes also.

Charles held out his hand, in an attempt to calm his daughter down.

"Evan, why are you here? You should be in heaven. Remember what I taught you about heaven?"

"You said it was a nice place, high in the sky. But, Papa, I didn't want to go without you! Without Momma! You said that you would watch over me in heaven! You said!"

"I know. I know…" Charles inhaled again. "But I also taught you that God would watch over you too, remember?"

Evan shook his head. "You told me that one day you wouldn't be here and that you would watch over me and someday I would see you again!"

Charles was silent. He said that exactly, unaware that Evan's death would be so soon.

"Papa, I can't go, not without you," he cried.

Debbie was now sobbing, not able to say a word.

Her son walked forward, stopping a few inches away from his grandfather. He reached his hand out and smiled that sad smile again.

Charles hesitantly took his hand. It was cold.

Evan looked up at his mother that stayed secure behind the wheelchair.

"I'm sorry I scared you, Momma. But I wanted to ask you to bring Papa here."

Debbie bit her lip, suppressing the urge to cry out. "I'm sorry too, honey. I'm sorry I caused you this pain."

Evan only smiled reassuringly at his mother, and then returned his gaze back toward his grandfather.

"I never blamed you, Papa. You tried your best to save me. But can you try your best to stay with me?"

With those words, Charles gazed down, tightening his eyes shut, letting the remainder of his tears fall.

"What do I need to do?" his whisper was barely audible.

"Just close your eyes," Evan whispered also, his voice lilting.

He did so exactly.

"Dad! Dad, wait. I—you can't do this. Evan?" Debbie's words were a bungle as she circled around her father's wheelchair.

"Don't worry, Momma."

While holding his grandfather's hand, Evan took a couple of steps backward. A bright light engulfed the area. The light withdrew around a figure in between Evan and his grandfather. He stood tall, strong, lively.

"Dad?"

Along with the brothers, everyone was in complete awe at the performance before them. Much like Evan, the figure was ghostly, surreal, yet it held recognition.

Charles' spirit stood tall, without difficulty, holding his grandson's hand.

Debbie averted her gaze back on the body of her father that sat peacefully on the wheelchair, eyes closed, and a simplistic smile on his lips.

"No, no, no…," she emulated. She looked back toward the ghostly figure of her father and son. "Please, don't leave…don't leave me."

Evan frowned as tears spilled out of his eyes. "Momma, you can't come with us. I'm sorry, but it's not your time." The corners of his mouth then lifted into a sad smile. "I love you, Momma, and someday we'll be together again—just not now."

"But—"

"He's right, hon," Charles spirit interjected. "I knew that my heart attack took my remainin' years away, and that I didn't have a lot of time left. I didn't want to worry you, but I know you will do fine on your own. You have so much potential, and I believe you will make a better livin' sellin' this farm. We will be there every step of the way."

Suddenly another light appeared from the shadows, an orb that had begun growing in size. The light was blinding.

Evan and Charles gazed at it with wonder.

"It's time…"

Hand in hand, grandfather and grandson strode slowly toward the light, their door to salvation. Debbie watched them go, speechless and her eyes still running.

Their bodies were silhouettes as they stood in front of the light. The two turned their heads, gazing back at Debbie Williams.

"I love you…," she whispered, her voice cracking.

"We love you too," Evan replied, smiling. "I'll tell Daddy you say hi."

And just like that—stepping into the light—they were gone. Charles and Evan disappeared into the darkness, the light vanishing with them. Their whispers could be heard, until there was silence once again.

Debbie collapsed on her knees, and cried in her hands, her whimpering the only sound left to be heard in the barn. Her cries the only thing left whispering.

--

"Thank you for everythin' and I'm sorry for the way I acted," Debbie said. "At least now I know that my son and father are at peace and happy."

Sam nodded his head along with Dean in acknowledgment.

"Now that everything's over, are you still selling the farm?" Sam questioned.

Debbie looked back at her house, the barn and the wilting farmlands. She sighed. "Yes. I couldn't take care of this place by myself. And now that I know Evan and my father are always with me, I won't feel like I have abandoned them."

"I wish you all the luck," Sara said.

Debbie turned back and smiled. "The same to you, wherever your future endeavors take you."

Dean lifted a hand as a good bye gesture. "Take care."

Debbie Williams watched the group as Dean pulled the Impala off of the dirt path and back onto the road, disappearing into the bright sunlight of Texas. The Williams plantation disappeared from view the farther they went straight, driving passed the border and onto the next state, whichever that may be.

The short hunt was concluded on a sad note, but that wasn't always so abnormal. Sam and Dean Winchester had seen the sad endings and the happy endings that these hunts brought people. But the brothers' story was not done yet, and they had no idea how their story would end.

Until then, they'd drive to the next state, find clues about their father. And now, find answers for the women that rode on the back seat with them.

After a few short hours of driving, Dean pulled into a gas station. He got out, taking the gas hose to fill up the vehicle. Sam had asked the women if they wanted a snack or drink before he exited out of the car himself. He walked passed other cars and their drivers, entering inside the convenience store close by.

Jamie blew out an exaggerated breath as she got comfortable in her seat. She averted her eyes to her best friend beside her, who had been playing with her cell phone for the last hour.

A lilting tone sounded from the phone's speaker, only slightly startling Sara. A small message appeared on the screen.

_1 New Message:_

_Andy_

Sara's thumb hovered over the end button, ready to delete the message alert, ready to ignore it. But she kept her thumb there, hovering, looking at the name that the message was left by. She sat there, contemplating whether she should listen to the message or not. Was it really worth her time?

She would admit, only to herself, that she missed him. She really did. She missed his smile, she missed his lame jokes, she missed hearing his laughter, she missed his touch…

She pressed down the talk button.

Immediately, the number to her voice mail appeared on the little screen. Sara brought the phone to her ear. It rung twice until an automated voice answered.

"_You have one new message_."

_Beep._

"_Sara, I know I've left you messages before, a lot of them. And I don't know if you listen to them or not. I know I don't deserve your forgiveness. I know I don't deserve you for what I've done. But I'm sorry, I really am. I admit my mistake, and I admit it was unforgivable._

_I gave you a promise ring, I promised you on the day of our one year anniversary that you were my one and only. I broke that promise. I'm so sorry, but please…Please come home. I'm worried about you, about where you are._

_I love you, Sara, I really do. I will always love you no matter what. Just please leave a message, something—anything! Just let me know you're okay._

_I'll always be here for you, babe, I promise._"

_Click._

"_End of messages._"

Sara lowered the phone from her ear, staring into nothing as she replayed Andy's message in her mind, over and over and over again.

"Sara?" Jamie spoke up, her brows furrowed with worry.

"What am I doing?" she spoke to herself.

Jamie didn't reply. She knew her friend had more to say.

Sara gazed up at her, her eyes watering. "I have absolutely no idea." She ran her hand through her hair. "You were right all along, Jamie. I don't know what the hell I'm doing. I'm scared, I'll admit it now, I am scared. But I don't know how to deal with it, I never did. I just…I just don't want to be weak. I don't want to be weak for you, Jamie. But I can't help but think I was better off at home, with Andy, and not with this mess before us." Sara buried her face into her hands. "I'm sorry for being a jerk. I'm sorry I lied. I'm sorry that all this is happening. I just want to be with Andy again, even though my head is telling me not to. I just want this to be over."

Jamie began rubbing her back, understanding her words exactly.

"I should be the one who is sorry. The only reason you were attacked in the first place was because the demon was after _me_. You weren't supposed to be a part of this. But now they are trying to use you to get to me." Jamie began rubbing the tears away from her eyes. "We'll get through this together, Sara, I promise. I know you, you're strong, and you've always been the one that kept me on my feet. You can do this Sara. This fear your feeling, you can overcome it. Don't let those demons take away your bravery. Please don't let them take that away from you."

Lifting her head from her hands, Sara looked up at her. A sad smile appeared on her lips.

"We can get through this, right?"

Jamie nodded. "Together."

Old friends exchanged a similar smile, one that was genuine and loyal. But that ended all too quickly when Dean entered inside the vehicle, Sam entering a few short minutes after.

"Ready?" The older brother questioned.

"Yep," the younger one replied, throwing the bag of M&M's he requested. He turned toward the back of the car, handing Sara her Kit Kat bar and Jamie her Twix. "Let's go," he ordered his brother.

Dean didn't retort as he would have when his younger brother ordered him around. Instead, he pushed down on the gas, getting back onto the long stretch of road they were so familiar with.

Sara and Jamie wasn't sure what John Winchester could do for them, whether he knew what these demon's motives were or how to get rid of them. They didn't know if they would survive long enough to even meet the Winchester brothers' father, what with the demons searching like dogs for the two.

All they could do was share the path before them, the path they've chosen with both Dean and Sam, and trust the two men with their lives. But something within Sara and Jamie made them wonder, were Dean and Sam Winchester prepared for this journey, now that they had two inexperienced women lagging behind them?

Was this path they've chosen even rational?

Only the future had the ability to answer.

* * *

Disclaimer: I do not own anything based on _Supernatural_, the rights go the Eric Kripke. I do However own the personalites of both Jamie Leslie and Sara Collins.

Author's Note: Okay, I literally jumped for joy when I realized that was "back in black". I took so much longer writing this chapter than expected. I guess my only reason was that I didn't feel this chapter was super exciting compared to the ones that would be coming along very soon. Oh, and in case you guys were wondering, the whole Charlie Brown reference was just a little gag from me and my co-writer because we didn't realize until later that we were naming a character so similar to Charlie Brown (the old man's name was _Charles_ Brown). So, I added the quick scene with the mention of Charlie Brown just as an inside joke, I suppose. Oh, And I would like to thank all the people who have reviewed my story! You guys are awesome!


	7. Til Death Do Us Part

Disclaimer: I do not own anything based on _Supernatural_, the rights go the Eric Kripke. I do However own the personalites of both Jamie Leslie and Sara Collins.

Author's note: Wow, this chapter has been the most painful chapter to edit. My eyes are about to explode. It's long, and I do apologize. But like I said, I wanted to place a full hunt into one chapter. I'm tired and I'm about to fall asleep on my laptop.

Acknowledgments: First and formost, I'd like to thank my co-writer, Jessica. Although you nag me to death, you help me when I'm stuck, even though you somethimes don't want to. I'd also like to be thankful to my favourite author, Karen Rose, for inspiring me. I always read chapters from her books to bring back the motivation. And lastly, I'd like to thank my brother-in-law for taking me to a Metallica concert the week before. It gave me a great idea, that has taken a part in this chapter. Too all others, thanks for reading!

* * *

**Chapter Six: 'Till Death Do Us Part**

ROSEDALE, LOUISIANA

Sara Collins tightened her grip on her phone as she stared down the number that illuminated the little screen of the cell's surface. She tapped the heel of her boot on the tiled floor of the gas stations restroom, contemplating, while her heel clicked at every tap. Slowly she began to pace.

_What the hell is wrong with me? Why am I even _thinking_ of doing this? Dammit, Sara, you're an idiot._

She gazed at the screen again while the argument with herself continued within her mind. She only had little time left to make a decision. The Winchesters were waiting for her outside.

Sara bit her lip. It was now or never.

She applied pressure to the talk button and brought the phone to her ear. A couple of rings passed before it was interrupted by the person who answered.

"Sara?" The man's voice was firm, concerned. "Sara?"

Somehow, Sara couldn't speak. She closed her eyes. She didn't think hearing his familiar voice would hurt, but it did.

"Sara? Please speak to me…"

She tried to comprise herself, trying best not to let the pain sound from her voice. She hadn't mentally prepared herself for this because she believed that he wouldn't answer the phone, not from the way she left Colorado, not from what she last said to him.

Inhaling an extended amount of oxygen, she hesitated to reply. "Hi Andy…"

"Oh God… It's so good to hear your voice," Andy replied. He exhaled an audible sigh.

Again, Sara kept silent.

Andy was eager to continue the conversation. "There are so many things I want to tell you… So many things I need to apologize for…," he whispered. "Sara, babe, please say something to me. How are you?"

She took a moment to answer. "Not bad considering…" She trailed off. Andy really didn't need to know about the demons, or the hunt they had back in Texas. So, Sara decided to change the subject. "How are you?"

"Honestly? I'm miserable," he replied. "When are you coming home?"

His voice sounded desperate and forlorn, making Sara's chest ache. He hadn't acted like this since… Sara couldn't remember, and as she thought about it longer, she realized that Andy was never in this position before. Andrew Evans was always a man in a good mood, telling people lame jokes and had a laugh that could bring a smile to anybodies face.

"I don't know. It's a little complicated."

Andy let out a noise of frustration. "Where are you right now?"

Sara wavered about whether to lie or not, but she found herself telling him the truth. "At a gas station in Louisiana."

"Louisiana? Why are you all the way there?"

She didn't answer.

"…If you're running away because of what happened—"

Sara leaned against the wall as fresh tears began to sting her eyes. She didn't want to think about it. She didn't want to think about what she saw when she entered Andy's room. The visual still lingered in her mind, and to this day, it still broke her heart.

"I didn't call you to talk about that…"

Andy was silent for a moment. "I just wanted to let you know that I quit drinking."

Half a smile formed on her lips. "That's good." Considering that this whole mess started because of Andy's engross drinking problem, Sara was sincere.

"Sara, why did you _really_ call?" She never heard Andy sound so serious before.

Sara covered her eyes with her hand. Part of her didn't know the answer to that question. Another part of her accepted the reasonable explanation she had developed over the last few minutes of arguing whether to call him or not. There was just a one word answer. Loneliness.

"I needed to talk to you…I—I miss you."

There was a pause before he replied, "I miss you too."

--

"What's taking her so long?" Dean exclaimed, peering out his window toward the gas station's public washroom. "She's been in there for ten minutes now."

This time, Dean wasn't exaggerating. He'd been counting down the minutes since she entered. She should have been out after the fifth minute passed. Maybe Dean was being impatient, but he'd never admit to it. He wanted to head back onto the road already before it got dark. That way, entering a new city, they had time to find a vacant motel and then a place to eat before sundown.

Sam sighed beside him and gazed over at Jamie in the back seat. If she didn't look so at peace sleeping, he might have awakened her to go fetch Sara.

"Screw this," Dean grumbled. He opened his door and jumped out of the car.

"Dean," Sam called out to him.

His older brother sent him a stern look. "I'm not waiting anymore." He turned away and strode toward the public washrooms.

"Damn women. Why do they take so long in the washroom anyway?" he muttered to himself as he neared the restroom. He brought his hand up, ready to slam his fist against the door. But he stopped immediately when he heard Sara's voice.

"I told you already, Andy, it's more complicated than that. I can't just forgive and forget so easily! I can't—it just doesn't work that way… I called because I needed someone to talk to… I'm okay, I'm just… I'm scared."

It was quiet for a moment.

"Who? The guys in the car? They're just friends—Of course they're safe…I don't know what you mean. I told you already, I'm in Louisiana…I'm not telling you anything else. Look, I have to go. I'm sorry…I'll call you when I get the chance, I promise. I—I love you too. Bye."

Dean leaned his head away from the door when he heard her heels click against the floor and toward his direction. When she exited out of the restroom, her eyes widened at the sight of him. He saw fear on her face, and then confusion, followed by guilt.

"You took a while. I came to make sure you were okay," he explained. It was a lie of course. He was more concerned of pulling her out of there so the group could get going. But from the look on Sara's face, he didn't find that telling her the truth was applicable.

She quickly began rubbing at her eyes that were red and glazed over. "I see. Sorry I took so long. I was feeling nauseous. I think it was the lunch we ate."

Dean stared at her for a long time. He knew that was really not the case. Sara barely ate anything at lunch. She picked on it more than she chewed her food. However, seeing her the way that she was, he didn't feel the need to bring it up. In lieu, he nodded his head.

"Right…"

Sara frowned at his response, then looked away and began walking past him. "We should get going, huh?"

Watching her walk, Dean's lips were a tight line. Sara was quick to avoid any discussion that could take place if Dean felt he was obliged to ask about what she was really doing in the restroom. And he might have, if they weren't so behind in schedule. He followed after her toward his '67 Impala and entered the driver's side. He sent a short glance toward his brother—who gave a look of confusion—before turning up the engine and driving back onto the road.

Sam stared up at the sky through his side window, looking for the sun that had taken refuge behind the thick gray clouds for a couple of days now. He missed the peaceful scenery, the beam of sunlight, not to mention the heat.

Spring was approaching, but the awareness to that was slim. The temperature was lowering, seeming as if winter was returning. Like the earth was orbiting backwards.

The group was on a newly opened stretch of road that slithered through Grand River forest. The luxury forest surrounded them in lush of green. But the soil was muddy and the trees covered in rain water. The atmosphere seemed a little dull and blue.

As usual, Dean's music engulfed the silence as the minutes passed by. That is until something other than trees came into view.

"What do we have here?" Dean said. He slowed his vehicle to a stop.

Many police cruisers were scattered around what the road would allow. Two ambulances accompanied them. There were officers at each corner of the area talking amongst one another or toward the paramedics that were on ground. There was yellow police tape wrapped around a specific area by the side of the road. Two men were taking pictures of that specified area.

"What's going on?" Sara questioned as she peered her head between the two brothers, staring through the windshield.

"Looks like a crime scene," Sam replied.

Almost immediately, Dean pulled out the wooden box from the glove compartment. He grabbed two ID's handing one to Sam. He threw the box back into the glove compartment carelessly.

"Will you be fine for a couple of minutes by yourself, Sara?" Dean questioned, placing the ID in his pocket.

Just for a second, Sara seemed perplexed. "Potential hunt?"

"Maybe."

She grinned. "I'm a big girl. I'll be fine. Go ahead and play officer."

Sam's brows pulled together with worry. He never liked leaving the women by themselves, where they weren't supervised. Sam almost felt like a father, being overprotective over his premature daughters.

"If anything happens—"

She interrupted Sam before he could finish his sentence. "I'll call you. I know the protocols." She sent an easy smile. "Good luck."

Without another word, the brother's both exited the Impala. Sara leaned forward, slightly heightening the music as they made their way toward the scene.

"Gentlemen, we cannot let you come closer to the scene. I suggest you take your car and continue on your way." An older man approached them, his thumbs hooked in the hem of his pants. He wore an officer's uniform, with an addition to mirrored aviator sunglasses even though there was no sun to shield his eyes away from.

Dean flashed his badge, Sam following suit.

The officer narrowed his eyes at them. "You're a little underdressed to be FBI. And I don't remember us calling your department for help."

"On the contrary, we just happened to be around when we got the word about the scene." Dean sent him a sly grin. "My name's Agent Simmons. This is my partner Agent Stone."

"Can you tell us was happened here?" Sam asked.

The officer stared at them, unimpressed. He gazed beyond his shoulder, back toward the scene. Paramedics had just finished zipping up a black body bag and hauled up another onto a stretcher.

"Two boys were driving by when they found a couple in a ditch just a few feet from the road. They were dead by the time we got here."

"Any distinctive marks on the body?" Dean questioned.

The officer looked back at him, chewing a piece of gum. "Lotsa scratches. If I didn't know any better, I'd say they were mauled by some kind of animal, which wouldn't make a lick of sense."

"What do you mean?"

"Boy, you must be new at this, huh?" he asked, impatient. "There's nothing carnivorous around these forests besides one or two bears in the area. But they don't ever go near the roads and they definitely wouldn't bite one of their fingers off."

"Fingers?"

"The couple both have their ring finger missing—nothing I've seen before. Both ripped clean off."

"The witnesses—are they still here?" Dean questioned.

The officer pointed with his thumb, behind him. "Tyler Reed and Lucas Brooks are both back there, just beside their truck."

The brothers nodded toward the officer and made their way to two teenaged boys that seemed nervous and slightly frightened. They leaned against an old '76 Ford Pickup, both conversing to one another. One of the boys, who was the tallest, had blond curly hair that looked like it hadn't been combed for a very long time. He had a really young face, and if it wasn't for his height, people might have thought of him as much younger. The other boy had long, dark brown hair and an undeveloped goatee growing on his chin, which was the only thing that made him look even a tad older. Both wore band t-shirts—bands that Sam had never even heard of—and ripped jeans.

"You must be Tyler and Lucas," Dean addressed.

Both boys gazed up at the brothers. For their age, they both looked extremely tired and old. However, they straightened up once Sam and Dean both flashed their badges.

"FBI? Shit…," one of them exclaimed.

"Can you guys give us a rundown on how you found the bodies?" Sam said as he shoved his hands in his pockets. He almost felt sorry for these kids.

Tyler, the one with the long brown hair, leaned away from the truck, his face drained from colour. "We were in my truck, going up the road to find a good camping site for the weekend. Lucas here had to take a leak. So I parked at the side of the road…"

"I walked out of the car when I thought I saw two dead animals beside each other." The blond, Lucas, swallowed hard. "I went to check it out and when I saw that it was…two bodies, I ran for the truck, told Tyler to call nine-one-one."

"Did you guys see anything strange around the bodies or in the trees?" Sam questioned.

"Like what?" the boys replied in unison.

"Like strange figures, shadows in the trees, or anything strange around the bodies?" Dean chimed in.

"We just found dead bodies, man, we weren't really concentrating on anything else," Tyler replied.

Sam and Dean both exchanged an unsatisfied sigh. "Thanks for your time gentlemen. If we have anymore questions, we'll contact you."

Both Lucas and Tyler shared an identical frown before the brother's turned away from them and made their way back to Dean's Chevy Impala.

"Leaving so soon, boys?"

Dean sighed irritably as the old officer approached them again, chewing on his gum like a cow chewing on hey. Sam could already foresee that this older officer was going to be a real impediment on their investigation.

"Your men look like they have everything under control. I don't think we'll be needed," Dean sneered.

Sam's older brother had never showed a hospitable side toward law enforcement, especially ones that stuck their nose in everyone's business. Sam couldn't blame him. There were officers that did their job, and then there were officers that were just in the way.

"Damn straight. We don't need any feds telling us how to do our jobs," he replied in return.

"We'll take our leave now," Sam said, lightly nudging his brother before he said anything rash. And he would have to, if Sam had given him the opportunity.

They took their leisure toward the Impala, where Sara waited patiently, Jamie still sleeping by her side.

"How bad is it?" she asked when they entered.

Sam sighed. "A couple was brutally murdered and left beside the road, both their ring finger missing."

Sara grimaced. "Ring finger?"

"So says the officer," Dean replied. His face was still contorted in a snarl.

"That's unfortunate," she said. "So, we're staying in Louisiana, then?"

"Looks like it."

Dean started up the engine and pressed on the gas, jolting the vehicle forward towards the narrow path that the officers allowed, on the opposite side of the crime scene. He grinned toward the older officer, that watched them pass with displeasure, and made his way through.

Continuing down the long stretch of fresh road, they found themselves at the entrance of Grand River City.

Dean immediately navigated his way to find the first motel in sight. He pulled up into the parking lot of River Lodge Motel. The vacant sign was lit, and there weren't many cars parked. Turning off the engine, Dean exited out of the vehicle and began making his way to the front office to purchase their room. He returned shortly after.

"Two rooms?" Sam questioned as his older brother handed him an extra set of keys.

"Yeah. No way am I sharing a bed with you again," Dean replied in a straightforward voice. "Each has two beds, so one of us can keep an eye on either girl."

"Who patrols who?"

Dean shrugged. "I don't know. Pick one."

"Dean, what room are we staying?" Sara called out to him, her duffel bag over her shoulder.

Dean gave her a second glance before turning back to Sam. "That settles it then, you get Jamie," he whispered. He looked back at Sara, gesturing her forward. "Right this way." Twirling the keys with his finger, Dean led the way toward the number seven motel room.

Sam turned toward the car, where Jamie—whom was now fully awake—was pulling one of the duffel bags from the trunk of the Impala. He walked up to her without hesitation.

"Need help?"

Jamie almost jumped at the sound of his voice. She craned her neck to look up at him. "No, I got it." She gazed down at the keys in his hand and shifted her eyes to Dean opening the door to a motel room. "We have two rooms this time?" she examined, handing Sam his duffel bag and grabbing for her own.

"Yeah. I think we would have gone crazy if we continued sharing beds." Sam smiled.

Jamie laughed lightly. "No kidding. Sara hogs the whole bed." She threw her bag over her shoulder. "Well? Lead the way to our room, roommate."

Sam looked down at his hand with the keys, almost forgetting it was there. "Oh, right."

Jamie only smiled and waited. He turned on his heel, and made his way toward room number nine. He unlocked and jerked the door open. The décor was definitely a better update than their last motel. Still, the colour was a little off and the owners did a poor job in making the wallpaper and carpeted floor match.

Jamie threw her bag atop one of the beds and glanced at her watch. "Are we going out for dinner after?"

Sam placed his laptop over the small table by the corner, looking up at the clock that was mounted on the wall. "Um, probably. Why?"

"I was just wondering if I have enough time for a quick shower."

Sam nodded his head in understanding. "I can tell Dean to wait five more minutes for you."

"That'd be great. Thanks." Jamie unzipped her bag and began pulling out fresh clean clothes.

Sam strode toward the door and closed it behind him as he walked down the path to Sara and Dean's room. Their door was slightly ajar. He poked his head through before entering.

"Honestly, I don't know why men like you always have to feel the need to pay all the damn time, like it's a blow to your ego or something…"

"I'm using fake credit cards, so I'm not really paying. I don't see why you'd want to waste your money."

"Because it's common courtesy."

Sam cocked up a brow as he watched Sara and Dean altercate across the room to one another. He fully entered inside.

"What are you two even arguing about?"

Sara turned her head to look at Sam. "Oh, good. Maybe I can convince you since you're not such a hardhead like your brother."

"The only hardhead here is _you_."

Sara simply ignored Dean. "I gave the suggestion that I should pay for dinner this time, and Dean just got all bitchie."

"Bitchie, my ass…," Dean muttered under his breath.

Sam only grinned. Watching his brother like this was sometimes a treat. It wasn't common, so Sam savoured it each time.

He shook his head and said, "How about we settle this when it comes to dinner time?"

Sara and Dean sent each other a scolding look before replying in perfect unison, "Fine."

Dean threw his duffel bag atop his bed and turned to his brother. "Let's go now?"

"Oh, uh, Jamie was just taking a quick shower. I told her we'd wait for her," Sam replied quickly. He'd almost forgotten why he came in the room in the first place.

Dean's grin was devious. "Oh, Sammy, always thinking of the ladies."

"At least one of us is…," Sara muttered under her breath.

Dean shot her a glare as she continued unpacking her clothes.

Sam frowned. The last thing he needed was tension between those two. A lot of the times, Dean and Sara seemed like they were getting along well, but there was always something with the male and female gender. It was instinct to pick at the other. Sam didn't understand the reasoning. He and Jamie got along fine—hell, he even got along with Sara. It must've been Dean then. If anything threatened his masculinity, Dean was quick to fight back—even if it was fighting a stupid argument about who'd pay the next restaurant bill.

"Look, I'm going to go check up on Jamie," Sam whispered to Dean. He glanced at Sara for a brief moment before returning his eyes on him. "Just, try not to kill each other, okay?"

Dean rolled his eyes.

"_Okay?_" he said in a more stern voice.

His older brother furrowed his brows. "Okay," he replied, annoyed.

Sam sighed and turned to walk out the door. He returned to his room, opening the door and half expecting Jamie to still be in the shower. But when he opened the door, Jamie stood there, like a deer in headlights. Her hair was still wet, dripping water down her shoulders. A small, yellow towel was wrapped around her body, holding tight and concealing her round curves. Her hand held clenching a pink laced undergarment.

Sam's mind lingered for a moment as he stared at her. The way she looked…what it would be like if her towel would happen to _accidently_ fall off and down to her ankles…

When she pulled her undergarments behind her back, and her face suddenly turned a radiant red, his mind slammed back into reality—and hard. Immediately looking away, he apologized.

"I came to check if you were ready…," he explained.

"Almost. I just forgot to bring some…clothes in the bathroom with me." She cleared her throat. "Just give me a moment to dress myself."

Sam stumbled with his words. "Oh, right, of course."

She entered the bathroom and quickly closed the door behind her.

A knock came to the front door, and Sam cursed himself for jumping at the noise. His mind was still distracted by the uncalled for, yet intriguing sight his eyes had witnessed. He may not have been as horny as his brother, but Sam was still a man, which meant he still had testosterone in his body, imploring for the touch of a woman. He hadn't felt this way since his girlfriend, Jessica.

Sam shook his head. He couldn't get involved with Jamie. That just wasn't rational. He had to follow his own advice. He was here to protect the women, not play with them. Their relationship couldn't go any farther than friendship, and it definitely wouldn't cross the line toward a one-night stand.

The door opened behind him, making Sam jump again. He'd forgotten that someone had knocked.

"Is she ready yet?" Dean asked, entering inside without permission. His brother had always been that way.

"Almost."

Dean frowned at his answer. Why was he so impatient?

The bathroom door drew open and Jamie stepped out, dressed in a new pair of jeans, a black sweater and her long hair pulled back with a pink clip. She avoided her eyes from Sam, as she grabbed her purse and pulled on her newly purchased combat boots. Her cheeks were still red, either from the heat of the shower, or the event that Sam had seen her indecent. Whatever the answer, Sam tried to not wonder.

The group quickly went back on the road to find the nearest restaurant with empty stomachs. It was soon after did Dean find a place called "Mike Anderson's Seafood restaurant". Sam usually never had a say in what they would eat for breakfast, lunch or dinner, considering Dean was always driving. However, seafood actually sounded like a nice change, and Sam found himself agreeing with the decision, which wasn't always likely, especially with his brother.

Entering the semi classy restaurant, a waiter immediately found them seats and gave them each a menu. After a moment he returned with a notepad and pen.

"Are you four ready to order?"

"Can I get the South Louisiana Combo?" Sara spoke up. She pointed toward a picture of a really appealing dish.

"Would you like that with Coleslaw or Salad?"

"Salad."

He quickly scribbled it down and then gazed at Jamie.

"Uh, just give me the same thing, with Salad also."

The waiter nodded, jotting it down. "And for the gentlemen?"

"Get me the Super Seafood," Dean answered. He then sent Sara a smug look.

For a moment, Sara wasn't sure why, until she looked down at the menu and glanced at the price of what he just order. Her eyes slightly widened. It was just shy of forty dollars. How could something like food be so expensive? She narrowed her eyes at him. Dean was trying to scare her away from paying. That definitely wasn't going to happen.

"I'll just get the Shrimp Dinner," Sam said.

"And to drink?"

"Beer," Sara and Dean said in unison. They stared at each other for a brief moment, finding it strange that in a time of disagreement, they actually agreed on one thing.

"Two beers?" the waiter asked.

"Make that three," Sam replied. "Jamie?" he asked, glancing at her.

"Oh no, I just want some water."

The waiter scribbled it down. "Alright. Coming right up." He then walked away.

Sara waited until the waiter was completely out of sight before eyeing the older Winchester. "Nice strategy," she said.

"What strategy?" he questioned all too innocently. It was so easy to see through him. He was so transparent, especially when his lips barred a charming smile. Any other woman may have fallen for it, but Sara was experienced. Charming smiles was a defensive mechanism men used to get their way. Or lie.

"Ordering the most expensive thing on the menu," she replied. "I may be broke Dean, but I'm not cheap."

Jamie glanced at the two, her brows raised at the suddenly hostility the two sent toward the other. "Am I missing something here?"

Sam only sighed. "They're fighting over who's going to pay this time."

She cocked up a brow. "Really guys?"

Jamie always did think that some of the arguments that Sara was involved with were ridiculous. At times, Sara might have agreed with her. But being as stubborn as she was, childish or not, she was going to win this idiotic battle.

"Yes, really." Sara gazed at her friend. "And I'm not letting Donald Trump here get his grimy fingers on the bill."

Dean snorted.

"Can we just enjoy our dinner, please?" Jamie pleaded. "After that, you two can have a battle on who gets the bill."

Both Sara and Dean agreed with her terms and stayed quiet until their meals had arrived. For ordering one of the specialties of the restaurant, Dean was given a massive plate with more food then a family of five could eat. Somehow—through some sort of miracle or talent—Dean was able to finish it without one shrimp or clam left uneaten. Jamie's plate was only half eaten and Sara could only eat so much. Sam, however, was just about done his dinner.

It was then, when Sam took his last bite, did Sara and Dean lock challenging gazes, ready to start the war.

Strategically, Sara got out of her seat, grabbing her purse.

"Where you going?" Dean asked skeptically, his voice accusing her of a crime she hadn't committed yet.

"To the ladies room to take a piss," she answered matter-of-factly. "Anymore questions?" When he didn't reply, she smiled and turned on her black stiletto heel.

Sara knew Dean was watching her as she walked, so she decided to indeed move on to the restroom first before he got up and stopped her from paying the bill before hand. All she needed to do now was pray that Dean wasn't smart enough to grab the waiter's attention while she hid in the restroom. When she quickly did her business, she walked up to the mirror and groomed herself for a moment to make her time in the washroom seem legitimate. When she felt she waited long enough, she peeked through to see whether the waiter was near their table or not. Fortunately, he was speaking to his co-worker that was working the bar.

She approached, grabbing their attention with a wave of her hand. "Um, excuse me?"

The waiter turned to her. He looked disappointed for a moment. Sara guessed that he thought she'd addressed him to complain about something, which was usually a server's worst nightmare.

"Is there any problem, ma'am?"

Sara put on a friendly smile, hoping it would ease him. "Kinda. See that man that was sitting across from me? He's a douche and wants to pay for the meal. So, instead of adding to his ego, do you mind ringing up our order now and giving me the bill before he even notices that I'm talking to you?"

The waiter only smiled and stifled his laughter. "Sure, no problem." He left.

"Is he those kinds of guys that feels the need to save damsels in distresses?" the bartender questioned, sending Sara an understanding look.

She rose her brows, her expression all knowing. "You have _no_ idea."

The waiter returned in a matter of minutes with the bill in his hand. "Here you go ma'am. How will you be paying for that?"

Sara canvassed the bill. She would have fainted if she wasn't expecting the amount it was going to cost. Even though the food was exceptionally good, she didn't think at this price it was worth it. Still, she pulled out her wallet, taking out as much cash she had—which happened to be the rounded amount of the total—and handed it to him.

"The rest is your tip, hon. Enjoy."

He exalted his thanks and Sara made her way back to the table. She took her seat without a word and picked up her beer to finish it off. She tried her honest best to keep a straight face so that Dean wouldn't have suspected a thing.

However, he was oblivious and studying the menu. "Anybody want dessert?"

"No. If I eat anymore I think I'll explode," Jamie answered. Sam and Sara only shook their head.

Dean looked up toward the waiter who was back talking to the bartender. He snapped his fingers to get his attention. When he came strolling by, Dean said, "Can we get the bill?"

"Oh, your lady friend here has already paid for it." The waiter gazed at Sara and winked.

It was at that instant that Dean shot her a menacing glare. Sara tried to keep her grin in place even though his look frightened her. She didn't think she'd ever seen him so angry before.

"I win."

"You sneaky little—"

Sam stood up abruptly. "Thanks for the meal," he said to the waiter. Then, he gave his brother a smouldering look.

Dean's jaw clenched as he stood up also, sending Sara a final glance before turning and heading for the exit. Jamie exchanged a bewildered look with Sara. Had she done something wrong? The two followed after the brothers and out the door.

Dean was practically stomping his way toward the Impala, and Sara realized that this whole battle wasn't even funny anymore. He was seriously angry with her, and Sara couldn't understand why. She tried to quickly match up with his strides.

"I didn't think you'd get _this_ angry. What's your problem anyway?" Sara questioned when they were just a few feet away from the vehicle. She grabbed his arm when he didn't answer her. "Dean."

He stopped walking and rounded on her. "Did you use a credit card to pay for the meal?" was the only thing he said.

Sara furrowed her brow. "Of course not. I'm not stupid. I know there could be a chance the demons can track down my credit card trail in order to find us. I paid with the cash I still had."

Dean expression seemed to soften at that.

"Look, I just feel that I should give something back, y'know? You and Sam have been driving us everywhere, watching out for us, paying for our meals… I just felt that paying the bill today would somewhat repay for what you've guys have done for us," Sara explained as she frowned.

"We really appreciate that you'd want to repay us," Sam began, "but Dean and I pay for the meals with fake credit cards most of the time, anyway. If you want to repay us just stay out of harms way until we can find out why those demons are after you." He then smiled reassuringly. "That's all we are really asking for."

Sara opened her mouth to argue but Jamie touched her arm, silencing her. Jamie gave her a look of understanding, and then shook her head. No matter what Sara said, the brothers would refuse their help. The stubborn bitch in her wanted to immediately disagree. But the look Jamie sent stopped her from even attempting to put up a fight.

It just wasn't _fair_.

The ride back to the motel was a quiet one. Quickly, the sky darkening and fatigue was catching up with the four. Being on a road trip was tiring after a while, and the group hadn't been getting much sleep the past couple of nights.

Saying their goodnights, Dean and Sara separating from Sam and Jamie toward their rooms for the night.

Immediately, Sara went straight to the bathroom to take a shower. She wanted to avoid a confrontation with the older brother. If she didn't distract herself with something, she knew she'd say something to him, which would probably escalate to another unnecessary argument.

Turning on the faucet, she jumped right in, under the hot, steaming water. She gazed down toward her lower body, inspecting the yellow fading bruise on her rib cage. It looked ugly, but at least it was almost fully healed. She couldn't ask for more than that. The bruises on her face also were just faint marks.

Sara reached her hand over her shoulder, brushing her fingers across her shoulder blade. She felt the burnt flesh of the demonic symbol on her back. She frowned at the touch. Did she really have to live with such a hideous thing for the rest of her life?

Sara pushed the question at the back of her mind as she began to lather the shampoo she brought with her through her long, rich brown hair. She closed her eyes as she lowered her head under the water and let the shampoo slide down her shoulders. When she opened her eyes and absently looked down, she saw the water tinge with a faint red. She furrowed her brow in wonder, her instinct kicking in. She was bleeding. Sara saw the blood trailing down her lower arm. She reached for her back, touching the burnt symbol again and brought her fingers into view. More blood.

"What the—"

A ripping pain shot through her shoulder blade, forcing her to double over in pain. She curled up under the water, gritting her teeth. The faucet water tainted with more of her blood, which flowed beneath her feet. All she could think at that moment was: why is this happening? When the pain suddenly subsided and the water beneath her was once again clear, Sara felt disoriented.

"What the hell was that?" she asked herself as she breathed.

She touched the symbol once again and brought her fingers to her sight. No blood. Did she imagine it? Sara continued on with the shower cautiously, afraid that the pain would start up again, whatever it was. When she was done, she turned off the water and dried herself, checking out her back in the mirror. The burnt symbol was still there, but it was no longer bleeding. In fact, there was no evidence that it ever did bleed. Sara stared at herself in confusion.

_Knock. Knock._

"Sara, are you going to be long?" Dean's voice boomed from the other side of the door.

Startled, Sara automatically tightened the towel around her body. "No. I'll be out in a few minutes!"

Quickly, she got dressed and unlocked and opened the door.

Dean looked up at the sound, and furrowed his brow at Sara's lowered expression. However, he had no time to question. The beer had gone right through him, and all he could think about right now was getting to the toilet in time.

When Dean closed the door behind him, Sara quickly fetched her phone from her purse. She began texting a message and sent it to Jamie before Dean could exit out the washroom. When her phone confirmed that it was sent, she collapsed on her bed, bewildered if anything.

What did the symbol on her back really mean?

--

Jamie uncoiled her hair from her clip, letting her curls fall over her shoulders. The pain on her scalp lightened as the tension of the clip was eased. A light noise erupted from the night table and she grabbed for her phone. She just received a new text message, which was odd, especially at this time of night. Jamie looked for the name of the sender and realized it was Sara.

_The symbol on my back started bleeding when I was in the shower…_

Frowning, Jamie turned her back toward Sam whom was busy flipping through John Winchester's journal.

_What? How?_

She waited a minute before Sara replied.

_I honestly don't know. It was hurting 2._

Jamie furrowed her brow and quickly texted: _I think it's time we tell the brothers about it._

Sara lagged with her answer, making Jamie wonder if she was going to take the time to reply, when suddenly the familiar chime from her phone came.

_Ok but not now. L8r._

Jamie sighed at that and flipped her phone close. She turned to face Sam. He was still skimming through the pages of the journal, oblivious of her gaze. She approached him, peering over his shoulder.

"Mind if I ask what you're looking for?" she asked, taking a seat at the foot of Sam's bed.

He looked bemused for a moment at her presence before his lips formed into a thin line and he brought his eyes back on the pages. "I remember seeing something about Grand River in my father's journal but I can't seem to…" He trailed off and sat up straight.

Jamie tilted her head. "What?"

"I think I found it," he replied, slamming the journal on the table and began reading. Sam let out a sound of prideful triumph before picking up his Treo just inches away. He dialled and brought the phone to his ear.

Dean answered on the second ring. "Really, Sam? Calling my cell phone when I'm a few steps away?"

"Shut up and listen to this. I found information on Grand River in Dad's journal. Says here that before the road was built, hitch hikers that hiked the forest were reported missing."

"Oh yeah?"

"Dad has some cut outs from different articles. It also says that most of the missing persons were male and female."

"Which fits the pattern…"

"Exactly."

"Alright, we'll check out Grand River tomorrow. For now, I suggest we get some sleep so we can be well alert for the morning."

"See you then." Sam hung up the phone. "Looks like we're going back to the crime scene tomorrow."

"Oh, right. Sara mentioned that you guys found a potential hunt, right?"

Sara had filled her in when she woke up before reaching the motel. Jamie had been surprised, if anything, that another hunt came up so soon. But Sara only shrugged and had said, "I guess there's no breaks for hunters."

Sam nodded. "This one might be a lot easier than our last one."

"What makes you say that?"

Sam grinned and pointed toward his father's journal. "My dad has done the research for us."

--

The group got up bright and early—much to Sara's dismay—in order to further investigate the crime scene. However, what they found wasn't something they expected. Once again, the road was cluttered with police cruisers and ambulances. The cops should have disappeared by now, the scene clean of any evidence that would support the case. This time, though, an abandoned caravan was pulled off to the side, stuck in a ditch.

"What the hell?" Dean exclaimed, unbuckling his seat belt and grabbing the box that held their ID's. "You ladies stay here."

Immediately, the brother's exited the Impala, walking toward the scene, leaving Sara and Jamie in the back seat of the vehicle in silence.

"It kinda makes you want to get into the action too, huh?" Sara said, watching the brother's as they spoke to a nearby officer. Sara had always been interested in the life of a con artist, particularly after watching the movie "Catch Me If You Can" with Leonardo DiCaprio. It looked risky, but any human could get aroused with a cheap thrill like living on the edge.

"Sara," Jamie spoke up, her voice sober. "About the burn on your back…"

Sara brought her sights on her friend, her jaw tightened.

"How bad was it?"

Lowering her gaze, Sara shook her head. "_Bad_. First I saw the blood, and once I found out where it was coming from, I had this extreme pain hit me, like someone just swung an iron bat against my back. And just like that the pain was gone and so was the blood." A muscle in Sara's cheek twitched. "It made me wonder if I was imagining the whole thing."

Jamie frowned. "But you don't believe that, do you?"

She shook her head.

"When do you plan on telling the guys?"

"When it's convenient. Dean has been in a really pissy mood lately and finding out that I've kept this from him—whether it's important or not—I don't think I'll be his most favourite person in the world."

"He'll understand—"

"Sam will. I'm not so sure Dean will have the willpower to care."

Jamie looked like she'd agree. "He doesn't trust us…"

"You've noticed too, huh?"

Before Jamie could answer, Dean and Sam entered back into the Impala. Dean's expression was in a scowl while Sam had a look of concern and calculation.

"What happened?" Jamie was the first to ask.

"They found another dead couple," Dean answered with a flat tone and started up the engine.

"Were their fingers…?" Sara trailed off before she could ask the full question. She grimaced at the thought.

Sam nodded. "Ripped off, just like the others."

"And with the cops in the way, we can't do our own investigation," Dean explained, driving back into the city. "We're going back to the motel; maybe we can find more information in Dad's journal."

It wasn't long before Dean parked once again by the River Lodge Motel. The older Winchester thought it would be a good idea to regroup and refocus back to the matters at hand, especially with the unfortunate default this morning. The four decided to stay in Sam and Jamie's room in order to research more thoroughly about the old articles.

Sam sat at the table behind his laptop and his father's journal while Dean stood looming over his shoulder, one hand on the back of Sam's chair, the other resting on the table.

"When was this article dated back?" Dean asked his brother as they skimmed through the many cut out newspaper prints pasted in the pages of the journal, some paper clipped.

"About five years ago, I think," Sam replied.

The two continued speaking amongst themselves while Jamie and Sara sat on one of the beds, distracting themselves with the motel's television. The brothers' back to them, whispering incoherent words, Jamie frowned.

"You should tell them now," Jamie whispered to Sara.

She immediately shook her head. "No, not when there are things in the room that can be thrown at me."

"Sara, this isn't funny. We have to tell them. Your burn is connected to the demons, it could mean something important."

"I know, but not now."

"But Sara—"

"Not. _Now._"

Sometimes she hated when Jamie was insistent.

_And right_.

Sara didn't have the energy to deal with the ire of Dean Winchester. She'd wait until she was prepared. After the event that happened last night, at the restaurant, Sara didn't feel very compelled to share a secret that shouldn't have been a secret at all. Especially to the brothers.

Dean and Sam had turned at the tone of Sara's voice. She only nervously smiled and shrugged one shoulder.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt."

For a moment, Sam appeared to want to say something, before Dean hindered him in doing so and brought their attention back onto their father's research.

Sara turned back to Jamie whom glared at her through long, dark lashes.

"Fine. But if you don't tell them soon, _I will_." And with that, Jamie stood from the mattress and made her way toward the bathroom, which—for whatever reason—had become the best retreat for anything that seemed to become confrontational lately.

Sara lowered her gaze with apprehension. She was right. Dammit, she was _always right_. And it annoyed her greatly.

"Wait," Sam suddenly said, snapping Sara from her reverie. "Dad figured it out."

"What?" Dean questioned, his brows furrowing with confusion.

"There's an article here dating back before all the others. Look."

Dean leaned in, gazing at the article his brother pointed toward. He began reading aloud. "Run Away Bride. Twenty-five year old Kathy Richardson was reported missing late of October by her fiancé, Ashton Lee. The two were to be married on October seventeenth of Saturday. Police presumed she has runaway from home. The investigating is still ongoing." He inhaled after reading. "This article was dated back in 1987."

He leaned away, seeing that certain areas of the article were highlighted or underlined. Little notes were written beside the article, only some legible. Kathy Richardson was written, underlined several times. Leave it to Dad to be helpful even if he wasn't psychically present.

"Dad also has articles of sightings from hitchhikers and or regular hikers that have seen a white figure in the forest. One mentioned it looked like a woman, in a white bridal gown, covered in blood," Sam stated, looking up at his brother.

"She was murdered?"

"Maybe."

Dean grabbed his leather jacket from atop one of the chairs. "I'm going to go and find more information on this Kathy Richardson and see if any of her family still lives in the area."

"What do you want me to do?" Sam asked, antsy.

"See if your can translate any of Dad's notes," he replied as he adjusted his collar. "And stay here and watch the ladies." Quickly, he grabbed his keys and stepped out through the door.

--

Dean blew out an irritated breath. He had no luck finding anything. The Richardson family was long gone by now, which wasn't so much of a surprise. He tried speaking to the locals but no one knew anything about what happened to Kathy and her family. Immediately frustrated, Dean returned to his Impala, deciding to pack up and return to the motel. He wasn't going to find anything today.

The older Winchester decided to take the newly opened road once again to reach back to Grand River City quicker. He peered over the turn, expecting to find another group of police vehicles in the area, but this time it was vacant. This would have been the perfect time to investigate, given the opportunity. Dean contemplated on that fact—

A figure zoomed by, stopping in front of his vehicle.

Recognizing it as a woman, Dean abruptly slammed on the brakes, letting his tires squeal against the wet road.

"Help! Please help him! _Please!_" the woman screamed, panicked.

Furrowing his brow, Dean jumped out of the car. The woman leaned against the hood of the Impala, barely breathing properly. She had been running, Dean observed. Running from what?

"You okay?" he asked.

She suddenly grabbed the front of Dean's jacket tightly. Her eyes were wide with desperation, her cheeks wet and red with tears. "Please help my husband! I'm begging you! _Do_ something! Oh my God." She began to cry, her words becoming jumbled and hard to understand. "Please…please…"

"Okay, okay, calm down," he whispered, placing his hands on her shoulders. He looked down at her. "Where is he?"

An ear splitting cry interrupted the silence, forcing both the woman and Dean to cock their heads to the left side of the road, where the forest resided. The cry echoed within the trees.

On high alert, Dean pulled away from the woman and ran to the trunk of his car. He lifted it open, revealing the secret compartment. Immediately, he grabbed for one of his sawn-off shotguns, loading it with rock salt.

The woman glanced at his armoury, appalled and took a step back. "Who the hell are you?"

"There's no time for that now, lady. Stay by the car. I'll get your husband." Dean cocked his shotgun and slammed his trunk closed.

"No! That's my husband out there! I'm coming!"

Dean clenched his jaw. "Look—"

"_Marisa!_ _Help!_"

The cry came from within the forest again, a male's voice, one that was acute and frightened.

Dean broke into a sprint, the woman—postulated as Marisa—following at his heels. He ran off road and into the thick dark forest, avoiding every tree and branch that was in the way. The ground was greatly uneven and dangerous. He jumped over protruding roots and slipped away from the sticky mud patches.

"_Marisa_—!"

"Oh God," Marisa choked behind him. "John! John, where are you?"

Dean ran toward the voice that called out. Marisa hesitated and followed right behind. Dean found his way into an opening of the forest, finding blood along the way. Streaks of blood. A figure then came into view and Marisa gasped aloud.

"John!" she cried out and spurted to him, pushing past Dean.

Following after her, Dean collapsed by her side and evaluated the man's profile. The man had deep gashes across his flesh, his pale blue sweater soaked in blood. His eyes were shut, making Dean's heart clench. However, he saw the heave of the man's chest. He was breathing heavily and Dean sighed in relief. He was just barely alive.

--

Sam cracked his neck and blinked several times. He was staying too long behind the screen of his computer. He had been discerning his father's research for the past hour. The man's notes were hard to interpret that he decided to take a break from all the cramped handwriting. He'd begun reading an indebt article about the missing bride, Kathy Richardson. Sam had been reading for a long time, that the letters had begun to swim in front of his eyes. He stopped trying to focus.

"Maybe you should take a break?"

Sam turned toward Jamie, whom sat crossed legged on her mattress, facing the television and eating a bag of M&M's. Sara was passed out on his bed and had been for several minutes now.

He stood, cracking his back that was sore from the uncomfortable, hard motel chair and strode toward Jamie, taking some chocolate from her bag.

"Yes, Sam, you may have one. Thanks for asking." Jamie grinned wryly.

Sam flushed but smiled. "Sorry, couldn't resist."

She shrugged one shoulder. "I was kidding. How's the research going?"

"It's complicated."

"What's making it complicated?"

Sam frowned, going back and flipping through his father's journal for the hundredth time today. "This Kathy Richardson…I can't find any clues of where she would have run off to, where she could have gone. It's like she disappeared from the face of the earth."

"Maybe she did," Jamie replied, turning off the TV. "You guys suggested murder, didn't you? Maybe that's exactly what happened."

"Maybe…" If that was the reason, her spirit could have been the culprit for all these strange murders. But if that was the case, a body would need to be found in order to salt and burn. However, considering that she was missing, it wasn't likely her body would turn up in any nearby graveyard.

Before Sam had a moment to ponder, his Treo that lay by his laptop broke the silence. Sam picked it up, saw it was Dean calling and immediately answering.

"There was another attack," Dean said instantly on the other end, not waiting for a preamble.

Sam slid his hand down his face and sighed. That's the last thing they needed right now. Especially with the lack of information he received in his hours of research. "Any casualties?"

"No. I was here just in time. Some woman ran in front of my car begging me to save her husband. He was just barely breathing when I got to him."

"Did you question him?"

"He says he saw a woman with black hair in a white bridal gown covered in blood—just like the others. After that, he says he doesn't remember anything," Dean replied. "I checked with the EMF meter before calling nine-one-one. This was definitely a spirit."

"You think this spirit is Kathy Richardson?"

"I don't know. See if you can find a picture of her. I'll see you in ten."

Sam hung up and sauntered toward his computer.

Jamie frowned with confusion, desiring information. "What's wrong?"

"Another couple was attacked," Sam answered.

Jamie furrowed her brow in worry. "Are they…?"

Sam shook his head. They weren't dead. _Thank God_. "Luckily Dean was in the right place at the right time."

Sighing with relief, Jamie stood from the bed, abandoning her bag of M&M's. "That's a good sign, isn't it?" She smiled, but Sam didn't return it. The corners of Jamie's lips lowered and she gazed at him with observation. "This isn't a relief at all…"

"Dean can't just stay out there on the road to make sure the next couple is safe too. If this is Kathy, her spirit needs to be put to rest, and soon." Sam turned toward his laptop, already beginning to find a search engine to find a picture of the missing woman. "I'm going to find a picture of her, and hopefully we can get a comparison of the spirit."

"It's not easy, is it?"

"To find her picture? It won't be that hard to find—"

"No, that's not what I mean."

At that, Sam turned to Jamie with confusion. He thought for a moment as he studied her sad expression, before deciphering Jamie's words. His mind clicked in then.

"You mean the job…"

Jamie didn't answer; instead she took a seat on one of the chairs at the table, still studying him.

"No," he answered her, "it's not easy." He averted his eyes toward the illuminated screen of his laptop. "We can't always save everyone."

Which was the hardest part of the job. No matter how hard they tried, no matter how diligent, Dean and Sam were never able to save everyone. It was inevitable, Sam knew, but he still found himself trying. But sometimes, he felt like he didn't try hard enough. He didn't try hard enough for Jessica and because of that he lost her.

He missed her. God, he missed her. Sam had many sleepless nights, thinking about her, thinking about the 'what ifs'. What if he hadn't gone with his brother? What if he had stayed with Jessica? What if it was fate? What if there was nothing he could do, whether he was there to protect her or not? What if…What if…_What if_…

It was silent between the two for a brief moment, before Jamie decided to say something.

"Sam, can I tell you something?"

He stared at her for a few long seconds before slightly forcing a smile. "Go ahead."

"If you and Dean can't save Sara and I—if anything were to happen…" She trailed off and her gaze met his. "I just wanted you to know that it wouldn't be your fault. At least you tried. That's enough for us."

"Hey," Sam replied abruptly, "nothing is going to happen to you two. This I promise."

Jamie smiled wholeheartedly that time. His heart twisted. She had such a beautiful smile.

"In that case, I think I'll assist you in finding a photo of our potential spirit."

--

Dean sighed irritably as he parked the Impala back in his designated slot. That damn officer they met yesterday morning was there again, and he made sure not to leave Dean out of his sight before questioning him. He had given the Winchester a hard time before letting him go with an accusing gaze.

"Damn cops," Dean muttered under his breath before closing his driver door and headed toward Sam's motel room. He lifted his fist and rapped on the door two times. Waiting there patiently, the door drew open, Sam behind it.

"I thought you said you'd be here in ten minutes," he said.

Dean cocked a brow at him, his expression showing no remorse for being late. "The old cop kept me in question. He wouldn't let me go." He entered the room, his gaze toward Jamie whom was on the laptop, typing away. "I thought I told you to look for a picture of Kathy Richardson, not let Jamie do some online shopping." He began taking off his coat.

Jamie sent him a hard glare, the first hostility he'd ever seen from her. "We are looking for a picture. I was helping Sam, not satisfying my shopping needs."

Dean only grinned apologetically. "Sorry. I'm just annoyed, tired"—he brought his eyes toward the yellow bag of M&M's on the bed—"and hungry. Whose are these?"

Her expression softened. "You can have them." Jamie almost laughed as he lunged for the bag. She looked back at the screen.

While munching on his much needed chocolate fix, Dean looked across the room to Sara sleeping on the bed, her back facing him. "How long has she been asleep?"

"Apparently, not long enough." Sara turned her body over, her eyes groggy. "You guys talk too loud." She yawned loudly and sat up. She blinked a few times before her focus resided on the M&M bag that was held clenched in Dean's hand. He lent it out, forcing the corner of Sara's lips to quirk up. Her hand reached out, grabbing a handful of M&M's.

"Uh guys?" Jamie called out. "I think I just found a picture."

The three approached behind Jamie, observing a large image of a twenty-five year old Kathy Richardson smiling with a slightly older man. Her skin was an olive tone and her hair long, black and straight. She had big, gorgeous gray eyes, hidden behind long black lashes.

"Who's the guy?" Dean asked through a mouth full of M&M's.

"Says here it was her fiancé, Ashton Lee," Jamie answered.

"This is good. We can use this picture and question the guy you found earlier. See if it's the same woman," Sam said, grinning. "Do you know his name?"

"John Crain," Dean answered, throwing more chocolate in his mouth. "He's in the hospital now. He's probably going to stay there in the next couple of days."

"Good. We can go tomorrow." Sam looked up at the clock on the wall. "For now, I think we should get some sleep."

"I second that," Sara spoke up, grabbing her knee length brown leather boots from the floor and pulling them on.

Dean opened the door for her as they said their good nights before exiting and walking toward their own motel room. He watched Sara in silence as she approached the door, waiting for it to be unlocked. He pulled out his keys and opened the door. Sara stepped in, flipping the lights on and pulling off her leather biker jacket, throwing it on her bed. Dean closed the door behind him, throwing his own jacket off as he approached the night table that stood between the two queens.

Suddenly a buzzing noise began when he was a step away. Sara's phone laid on the service of the table, vibrating against it, rattling. The front screen lit up, indicating who was calling. Andy was written in big white letters. Sara almost jogged for her phone, picking it up quickly, away from Dean.

Dean's mouth straightened as he pulled out his car keys and his own cell phone from his pocket, placing it on the table. "I wouldn't answer that if I were you."

Sara stopped for a moment, staring at him with confusion. "Excuse me?"

"Andy. That's your boyfriend's name, isn't it?" He sent her a sideways glance.

Sara's brow bunched. She looked down toward the cell phone that was clenched in her hand, still vibrating. A frown slowly formed on her lips, the light in her eyes dimming.

"Look, this is probably none of my business, but that guy's no good for you," Dean said, facing her.

"And how would you know what's good for me?" Sara asked quietly, her eyes still on the phone.

She was putting up a protective barrier against him, Dean could tell. "Well, for one, no man in his right mind would cheat on a woman like you."

"Dean—"

He brought his hands up in defence before she could utter more words. "I swear, this time I'm not trying to hit on you. Nothing's going to happen between us, I get it. I'm just being honest here."

Sara lowered onto her bed, placing her vibrating phone beside her. It stopped then.

Dean decided to continue with his point. "And two, that scumbag cheated on you, Sara." She said nothing and he let out a patient sigh. "I heard you talking to him yesterday." Dean took a seat across from her. "That's the reason why you took so long in the restroom, wasn't it?"

"You want to hear something stupid?" Sara asked and looked up at him. Her face was vacant from any sign of emotion, but distinctly, Dean discovered there was hurt in her eyes.

"Sure," he replied softly.

"This wasn't the first time I was cheated on." She then slightly laughed, but there was no humor in it. She looked away, embarrassed. "I was cheated on twice before. By two different men."

"Twice?"

"The first time, the girl he had an affair with actually came up to me and confessed." Absently, she ran a hand down her face, still not looking at Dean. "The second time, his best friend—his own best friend came up to me and told me everything. He said I was a sweet girl and didn't deserve him. And now, Andy's the third. I caught him red-handed…"

Dean was baffled. He couldn't understand how three men couldn't settle for just her. The hurt look he found in her eyes grew and she frowned sadly. Having that happen to you must have been a hard attack against your self-esteem. That's why Dean liked having a no-strings-attached relationship. No one got hurt, and they'd leave happy. Dean could only see heartache in Sara.

"Then what are still doing talking to the scumbag?"

Sara didn't reply.

"Even if you do get back together with him, Sara, chances are he'll cheat on you again," Dean said matter-of-factly.

"It's just…" Sara inhaled sharply before continuing. "Andy is basically all I have left that's still giving me a normal life."

Dean tilted his head. "What do you mean?"

She met his eyes. "Well, my life hasn't exactly been normal since I met you, has it?"

He grinned at that and looked away. "We do have that effect on people." However, he shook his head. "Can I just give you some advice?"

"For my sake or yours?"

_Both_. "Once a cheater always a cheater. Andy will use you as his first choice, maybe, but it doesn't mean he won't go after other girls. He's a guy, and we can be horny sons of bitches."

"Are you saying you're one too?"

He shrugged one shoulder. "Hey, I had my fair share of one-night stands, I'll admit. But being a hunter, you never really have time to develop a strong relationship with the opposite sex."

Sara smiled. "So…what? You meet a girl at a bar, use her to relieve yourself, and then take off?"

Dean put on a nervous smile. "Putting it like that, I seem like the scumbag."

Sara laughed for real this time. "No, I get it. Those girls probably needed that one-night stand too, especially when something like you comes along."

"Something like me?"

Sara looked embarrassed for a moment, which Dean would admit to himself, looked adorable. "Truthfully, Dean, you are a very attractive man."

A flirty grin overlapped Dean's features, despite himself. "Am I now?" He always liked it when a woman stroked his ego. Among other things…

Sara rolled her eyes, dismissing him, and stood up, searching through her duffel bag.

_She thinks I'm attractive._ And too bad she was a lost cause. Dean tried putting the compliment to the back of his mind and focused. "But I'm being serious about the Andy thing," he said. "It's pointless."

"I know." Sara didn't say anything else as she grabbed her sleeping wear and retreated toward the washroom.

Dean uttered a long sigh and leaned back, falling back onto his bed. _Women_, he thought, staring up at the ceiling. Why did they always fight for something, when they deserved better?

_Like me_.

A cocky grin quirked his lips.

The buzzing noise started up again and Dean averted his eyes toward Sara's phone. For a moment, he switched his gaze to the washroom door, then back on the phone. He lifted himself up and reached for the vibrating cell.

"I'm doing her a favour…," he said to himself.

Dean flipped it open, bringing it to his ear. "Hello?"

There was a long pause before a male voice answered. He sounded annoyed. "Who's this? I want to speak to Sara."

"She's kinda busy right now, maybe you should try later."

"Who the hell is this?"

"A friend of hers," Dean answered.

Andy was silent for a moment. "You're one of the guys that was in the car, aren't you?"

"Guilty." And for a moment, Dean felt superior.

"Listen here, man, I want you to make yourself useful and bring Sara back home. What the hell is she doing in Louisiana anyway?"

Dean's grin faltered. She'd told him where they were. And, for some reason, he felt his anger simmer. "We're on a road trip. I think some time off from you will do her some good."

"You don't know anything about her," he replied in a deadly tone. Dean had struck a nerve.

"I know cheating on her was a stupid thing to do," Dean said. And it was stupid for Sara to even waste her time grieving about him. "I don't see how she wasn't enough. A girl like that…If she was willing, I'd go for her." And he would, given the opportunity. But Dean would have wanted a no-strings-attached relationship, and Sara wasn't that kind of woman.

"You keep your hands away from her," Andy snarled.

Dean lightly chuckled. "Oh, that's no problem, man. The only thing you have to be worried about is her keeping her hands off of me." _Because she thinks I'm attractive._

Andy was silent for a moment. "I don't know who the hell you think you are, but when Sara finally comes to her senses and makes you bring her back home, I'm going to personally make sure you and me get acquainted."

Empty threats, Dean thought. "You're the one who cheated on her, remember? The decision is up to Sara. When she feels like going back to Colorado, I'll bring her back to Colorado. But considering the circumstances, I doubt that'll be anytime soon." Dean had enough with talking to this loser. "For now, I suggest you stop calling her. If she wants to talk to you, she'll call you, you understand me? Good." Dean didn't wait for a reply. He took the phone away from his ear and flipped it closed, placing it back on Sara's bed where she had left it.

He stood up just as Sara was exiting the washroom and began taking off his plaid shirt from atop his black t-shirt. He collapsed onto his bed, acting like nothing happened. His eyes peeked open toward Sara whom threw her old clothes in her duffel bag and picked up her phone. She stared at it for a moment before placing it on the night table. Dean grinned to himself and turned away from her just as she was slipping under the sheets of her bed. He closed his eyes and let sleep consume him.

--

"_Sam, I want to be honest with you. Since the first time I met you, I've wanted you."_

_Jamie's voice was husky. She stared up at him, her green and hazel eyes dark. Her lips curved seductively and Sam felt a hard jolt below his waist. She wore the same small towel as earlier. It framed her hourglass figure that was dripping warm water from her shower before. Her curly bronze hair sprawled over her shoulders. Sam was tempted to touch it, tempted to pull it back away from her face as he—_

_Control, Sam. Control._

_She took a step closer to Sam, balancing her weight on the balls of her feet as she lingered her lips an inch away from his. He felt the heat of her body and his breath immediately hitched. She was so close. He could smell the sweet scent of her hair, and the touch of her curves… She was just so tempting._

"_Jamie, I don't think this is such a good idea," the rational part of Sam's mind said. He tried not to wince when he felt another jolt from his manhood, almost like it was protesting his words._

_Control._

"_Why wouldn't it be?" Her brows furrowed sadly. "I lost my boyfriend, you lost your girlfriend…All we have for comfort is each other…" She then smiled. "I would imagine that they would want us to be happy, to be satisfied…" Her hand began trailing over his chest. And although it was hidden behind the layers of clothes he wore, he could feel the heat of her touch._

_Sam swallowed hard. His rationality was losing an already lost battle. When Jamie's hand began trailing downward, he quickly caught her wrist._

_She looked up at him. The darkness in her eyes was gone. All that was left was loneliness, vulnerability…_

_Sam couldn't keep his control any longer. It's been way too long since he touched another woman. Before he realized what he was doing, he threw Jamie onto the bed, immediately hovering above her. She seemed so small compared to him. And just so tempting…_

_Jamie grinned up at him, her eyes dark once again. Sam leaned down, claiming her lips hungrily, his hand grabbing for the front of the towel that was wrapped around her body. He loosened it and—_

"Sam? Sam?"

Sam jerked awake, disoriented as he focused on the face that looked down at him. He gazed up at Jamie's concerned face. Her eyes weren't dark, and this time her voice wasn't husky. Sam felt a disturbing slam of disappointment on his shoulders.

"Are you okay?" Jamie questioned. "You were moaning and groaning in your sleep."

Sam's eyes widened before he quickly regained his composure. "Uh, yeah. It's nothing. Just a dream." Images of the dream resurfaced in his mind as he said this, and he instantly pushed them back.

Jamie didn't seem convinced. "Okay, well, Dean wanted me to wake you up. He wants to go talk to John Crain."

"Right," Sam replied and sat up. "Just tell him I'll be a few minutes."

"Sure, no problem."

Sam pretended to be stretching his arms as Jamie walked out the door. When she closed it behind her, he pulled the sheets away from his body and gazed down at the bulge in his pants.

"Damn."

Sam frowned, getting up and making the decision to take a long cold shower.

When Sam got out of the washroom, fully groomed and fresh, he stepped out of the motel room. He half expected the group to be waiting by the Impala, but the old girl sat parked alone. Sam shoved his hands in his pockets and made his way toward Dean's room. He knocked twice before the door was opened for him.

"Dude, what took you so long?" Dean asked, rummaging through his duffel bag by his bed.

Sara closed the door behind Sam as he entered further inside. "You'll need to excuse him; the guy woke up with an adrenaline rush."

Sam raised his eyebrows, and glanced at his brother. Dean only shrugged.

"Are we going to go talk to John Crain?" Sam asked.

"First we gotta figure out what we're going to do with the ladies," Dean replied, gesturing toward Jamie and Sara.

Sam was thoughtful for a moment. "Take them with us?" he said in an uncertain tone.

"Really? Take them with us?" Dean pursed his lips. "John Crain and his wife Marisa know me as an FBI agent. We don't have time to forge badges. Plus, four feds together would be more than suspicious."

"Okay, then, I'll stay here and you go."

Dean shook his head. "No, I'm gonna need you this time." He looked away, pulling out a tin of salt from his bag. "I was thinking we leave them here for a couple of hours, salt the doors and windows."

"Yeah, but if anything were to happen—"

His older brother immediately interrupted him. "I'll give them holy water just in case."

"Holy water?" Jamie looked confused.

"Oh, apparently it burns them," Sara explained matter-of-factly.

Jamie slightly laughed. "Naturally."

"I don't know about this, Dean…," Sam began.

"Look Sam, I'm going to need your help this time. The girls will be fine by themselves for a couple of hours so long as they don't touch the salt."

"So, wait, putting salt in front of the doors and windows—that's like a barricade for keeping demons away?" Sara questioned.

"Yup," Dean answered, tossing the tin in the air and catching it. He looked up at his brother. "Plus, they have our numbers. If anything happens, we're just a phone call away."

Sam's jaw clenched. "Fine, but I still don't think this is a good idea." Taking the tin of salt from Dean's hands, he began to pour a line in front of the window and then the door.

"Do a circle around the bed too," Dean ordered.

Sam sighed, but did as he was told.

Jamie looked down, watching Sam. "So in the meantime, what do we do? Just wait?"

"Pretty much. We shouldn't be long. We're just going to take the copy of the photo and see if John Crain can match it to our spirit."

Sam stood straight, brushing off the salt residue he had on his hands. He brushed his hair out of his eyes. "We need to grab some suits before we go to the hospital."

"Yeah," Dean agreed and pulled on his leather jacket. "You ladies be safe, alright? If you're worried about anything, just call us."

The women nodded.

"We'll be back," Sam assured, opening the door for his brother.

"Good luck, guys," Jamie said just before Sam locked and closed the door behind him.

"Are you sure they'll be alright?" Sam asked, glancing back at the motel room as they made their way to the Impala.

"Ah, Sammy they'll be fine." Dean began unlocking the driver door.

"How can you be so sure?"

"Well, for one, we haven't seen any signs of the demons since the last couple of days. Not since Sara spotted the demon chick in Houston."

The two entered the Impala.

"They could be hiding," Sam suggested.

"Maybe," Dean agreed. He gazed at his brother's brooding expression. "They'll be fine, Sammy. Just trust me."

Sam solemnly nodded his head, trusting his older brother.

Dean turned on the ignition and reversed away from the parking lot, and onto the road.

--

Jamie laid the motel magazine she was reading in front of her feet and stretched her aching back. She hadn't been sleeping probably the last couple of days. The nightmares of the man and the woman crying always returned to her in her sleep, forcing her to wake up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat. She had one just the other night, and she stayed tossing and turning until the sun came up.

Jamie rubbed her eyes, trying to rid off the exhaustion. She turned her attention on Sara whom sat crouched over her black sketch book, scribbling over the blank paper.

"What are you drawing?" she asked, looking over her shoulder.

She saw an image of the back of a little boy and an older man, holding hands and walking into light. Jamie recognized this image. It was a rendition of Evan Williams and Charles Brown.

"I can't help it," Sara whispered as she pulled her pencil away from the paper. "The things we see on this road trip… It's a total inspiration to me." Sara ran her fingers through her long dark hair. "Sometimes I forget that drawing is therapeutic."

Jamie smiled. "You do seem more relaxed than usual."

"Y'know, I had so many art commissions piled up back at home, some that are barely finished or barely started," Sara said. "I could just imagine, all the people who've associated artwork business with me, they're all probably thinking 'where'd the hell did I disappear to?' Not to mention the exhibition my artwork was suppose to feature later on this month."

"Oh yeah, you told me about that. You were excited about it."

"I was going to sell my paintings, get enough cash to pay for the repairs on my house. I was supposed to drop off my pieces this week." Sara sighed and gazed down at her sketch. "Plus, I've been getting voice mail from the gallery I work at. I should be fired soon."

"You were the gallery coordinator, weren't you?"

"Yep. I kept the art gallery running 24/7. Apparently they had to replace me for not coming in to work on the Monday after the week I was going to stay with you." Sara closed her sketch book, and glanced at Jamie. "Haven't any of your bosses called yet? You were working two jobs, right?"

"Oh, they have alright." Jamie pursed her lips. "One of my bosses was more worried than the other. I haven't returned her phone call yet."

"Oh God." Sara covered her face with her hands, immediately distraught. "And this is just work… I still have to figure out what's going on with school and with my professors. People from college have been texting me about where I've been and that I've missed important deadlines."

Jamie frowned. "And just to make it worse, when this is all over, when the demons stop chasing us, we'll have to come home and pick up the pieces. Catch up with everything, on the bills—Oh, shit, I forgot I was already late for my last bill." She fell back on the bed, collapsing. "They're going to repossess my house."

Sara sent a look of sympathy. "Dude, when we get back home…we're so screwed."

--

"John Crain," Dean addressed, nodding to the man that lay bandaged on the hospital bed. He looked considerably better than last night, where Dean had found him in the forest, bleeding and unconscious.

The man smiled weakly. "Agent Simmons, it's good to see you. I didn't properly thank you for saving me yesterday." He then looked up at Sam curiously.

"Uh, this is my partner, Agent Stone."

"We would just like to ask you a few questions about last night," Sam said, getting right into business.

John turned his attention back on Dean. "I thought I told you everything I knew."

"We uncovered a few clues about the attacker." Dean pulled out a folded sheet of paper from his pocket. He opened it up, revealing the photograph of Kathy Richardson. "Is this the woman you saw, Mr. Crain?"

John Crain studied the photo very closely, before swallowing down the bile in his throat and nodding. "Yeah…yeah, that was her."

Dean and Sam exchanged glances.

"And you mentioned she was wearing a wedding dress, covered in blood?"

John looked pale, but nodded. Suddenly the door drew open. John's wife, Marisa, entered the room. She looked surprisingly toward the two brothers.

"Oh, Agent Simmons, what are you doing here?"

"They found a picture of the attacker, Marisa," John explained.

Marisa furrowed her brow, taking the photograph from Dean's hand.

"That's impossible. This can't be her."

"And what makes you say that, Mrs. Crain?" Sam questioned.

Marisa looked up at him. "This is Kathy Richardson, isn't it?"

"You knew her?" Dean asked, trying to hide his excitement. They were finally getting somewhere.

"Not exactly." Marisa handed back the photograph and took a seat in one of the chairs by John's bed. "I use to live in the same town as her. I heard a lot of stories."

"About her running away?"

Marisa shook her head. "No one ever believed she ran away. I mean, of course on the day of her wedding it would be the first thought. Rumours started going around about her disappearance. People started saying she was dead. The most popular rumor was that Kathy was murdered by her own fiancée."

"And why would they say that?"

"Well, apparently, Kathy came from a very rich family. They were saying that Ashton Lee, her husband, was after that money. There was word going around that on the day of their wedding they got into an argument and he killed her." Marisa waved her hand, dismissing the thought. "Rumor has it, that she found out about his deal with his ex-wife and the Richardson family's money."

"This Ashton Lee, does he live around these parts?" Dean questioned.

Marisa shook her head. "He's long gone by now, last I heard. I think he moved from America."

Dean and Sam exchanged soulful looks.

"Are there rumours about where her body might have been buried or whether she'd been cremated?" Sam said.

Marisa looked confused for a moment. "Well, there was one. Some people who knew Kathy saw Ashton around Grand River forest. There were whispers that she was buried there, but no one dared to look for the body."

"Can you explain where they saw him? In the forest I mean."

"By a really large, old tree I think. Kids use to play there all the time, and that was their way of remembering the way back home so they wouldn't get lost." She then frowned. "But these are all rumours of course. You'll find the real culprit, who attacked my husband, won't you?"

Dean nodded his head. "We'll do our best."

Marisa and John Crain both gave their thankful praises which was only half acknowledge by the two brothers. The two walked out of the hospital, adjusting their tightened neck tie in unison.

"So, Kathy Richardson was murdered by her fiancée," Sam began.

"And was taking her revenge on any couple that were married, keeping their ring fingers as sick souvenirs," Dean said. "Maybe the rumours aren't just rumours."

The two entered the car.

"So, you're saying that Ashton Lee could have really buried Kathy's body in Grand River forest…"

"Killing any couple that goes near it," Dean added. "Only one way to find out." He started the ignition.

Sam didn't have to be a mind reader to figure out what was on his brother's mind. "We're going tonight."

Dean nodded his head and drove out of the parking lot.

--

_Jamie cringed at each loud footstep, every time those leather clad boots dropped to the hardwood floor. She closed her eyes._

_Don't let him find me, she pleaded._

_She brought her small legs closer toward her stomach as she sat in the darkness of the closet. A thin beam of light poured in from outside, through the crevice between the two white doors. Jamie gazed through the crevice with frightened eyes that glistened in the light. The room stayed as it were. She swallowed down the bile in her throat._

_It was quiet, at last. The woman's crying had ceased, she had stopped screaming also. The woman had told Jamie to hide before _he_ entered the house. _He _was in one of his moods again, coming home angry, enraged. Jamie never understood why. Why was he always so angry? Why did he attack the woman first?_

_Suddenly the heavy foot falls returned and Jamie tensed. When they faded into the distance, she was alert. She released her embrace around her legs and began crawling closer toward the crevice. She slid her knees against the floor, cautious to avoid any potential creaky floor boards. She peered through, trying to get a better look._

_The doors slammed opened and Jamie stared up in horror._

_When _he_ grabbed her, she screamed._

Jamie sat straight up, her vocal chords still working at a heightened volume.

_Oh God, he's here! Get him away!_

Sara came running to her side. "Jamie! Jamie!" Sara cried out. She grabbed her shoulders, shaking her gently. "Jamie! Calm down!"

Jamie gasped and looked toward her friend as if she'd never seen her before.

Sara furrowed her brow with concern, confusion written all over her face. "Jamie, what's wrong?"

Jamie clenched the fabric of her shirt, just above her heart, hyperventilating. She took in slow, deep breaths, trying to bring back her serenity.

"I'll go get you some water," Sara said. She was back in less than five seconds, handing her a glass.

She took it, chugging it down her dry, brittle throat.

"You're having the dreams again, aren't you?" Sara whispered as she watched her.

Jamie averted her wide eyes toward her, the glass shaking in her hand. How'd she know? How did she know about the dreams?

Sara only slightly shook her head, taking the empty glass from her and placing it on the nightstand. "When's the last time you had a decent hour of sleep?"

Jamie placed a hand on her forehead and leaned back down on the bed. She closed her eyes. "I don't remember…"

"How bad are the dreams?"

Jamie couldn't see Sara's expression, but she knew she was frowning at her. "They're getting worse."

A sigh was heard from Sara. "Maybe I can go to a drug store and buy you some Tylenol, something that can get you to rest."

Opening her eyes, Jamie shook her head. "We can't leave the room, remember? Not until Sam and Dean get back."

Sara's frown deepened. "You look terrible."

"Thank you." Jamie tried to force a smile, but it hurt to do so.

"I'm serious, Jamie. This isn't good. You need sleep."

"I know I do." She began rubbing her eyes. "How long has it been since I fell asleep?"

"Twenty minutes."

"Please tell me you're joking."

Sara shrugged. "Hence the reason I suggested the pills." Sara took a seat on the mattress, by Jamie's feet. "When did the dreams start up again?"

"How do you know about that? About the dreams?" Jamie never remembered talking to Sara about them. Ever.

Sara sadly smiled. "I've known you for a long time, Jamie. You used to wake up in the middle of the night screaming back in the orphanage. Same when we were living together in the past. I just never said anything, so you assumed I didn't know." Her smile faded. "You dream about _him_, don't you?"

Jamie didn't want to answer. She didn't want to think about _him_, not again, not when she finally got over the paranoia that _he_'d find her.

Sara didn't persist. "When did the dreams start up again, Jamie?" she asked again.

"Since we found out demons were after us. I don't know what the relevance is; it just sort of started up again." Jamie frowned then. "It's hard for me to fall asleep again each time."

Sara began rubbing Jamie's leg for comfort. "It'll be okay. When the brothers get back, I can ask them to get you some Extra Strength Tylenol, to help you sleep. We can blame it on the whole demon thing—they won't need to know the truth."

"More secrets, Sara?"

"It's more on a non need to know basis. I doubt our pasts have any significance with what's happening now."

Jamie sighed. "Maybe you're right. How long have they been gone?"

A hard knock slammed on the surface of the door. Jamie jolted right up, still sensitive from the nightmare.

Sara stood, taking slow steps toward the door, avoiding the lines of salt on the carpeted floor. She took in slow, even breaths as she approached.

"Sara, Jamie, it's us."

Jamie saw Sara's tense shoulders slump at the recognizable deep, male voice. Swiftly Sara unlocked the door and pulled it open. Dean entered inside without a word, his younger brother following after. He nodded toward Sara in acknowledgement then smiled toward Jamie. She tried to return it, but the muscles in her lips wouldn't tug the corners upward.

Sara closed the door behind them and shoved her hands into the back pockets of her jeans. "Did you guys find out what you were looking for?"

"Yes, which is the reason why we're leaving again," Dean answered.

"What? Why?"

Sam turned to her. "We have a lead on where her body might have been buried. We're going to check it out and hopefully close this hunt."

Sara collapsed on Jamie's bed, her expression holding disbelief. "You guys just got back. You're leaving _again?_"

"Missed us?" Dean grinned.

Sara didn't give him the satisfaction of answering his question. "Well, before you guys go, do you mind grabbing Extra Strength Tylenol from the drug store just down the street?" When Dean sent her a disconcerting glance, she added, "Jamie is having trouble sleeping."

The two brothers looked at Jamie then. Embarrassingly, she bowed her head.

"Dean, you go. I'll get everything settled here."

For a moment, Dean looked like he'd refuse. But in the last minute, he decided against it and strode to the door. Dean left a final glance toward Jamie before leaving.

"Having trouble sleeping?" Sam asked mostly to himself.

"With what's happened, it's to be expected," Sara defended.

Sam grinned. "No, I get it. Demons, spirits—all that crap can keep you up at night."

Sam's statement lingered in the air for a long moment. Dean returned in less than ten minutes with a small bottle. He handed it to Jamie.

"Thanks," she replied, cradling the bottle in her hand.

"You two should get some rest, we might be a while," Dean said. "Call us if anything."

Sara nodded her head. "Be careful," she whispered.

--

"Didn't you find the Tylenol a little _weird_?"

"Dude, she can't _sleep_," Sam exclaimed. "They're not used to being on the road, functioning on an hour of sleep like we are." Dean looked like he didn't want to agree. He decided to change the subject. "Are we there yet?"

"I swear, Sam, if you start that—" Dean silenced at the look that Sam gave him. "Yeah, we're almost there."

A few minutes later, Dean parked the car at the side of the road. The two loamed above the trunk of the vehicle, equipping themselves with the right tools. Sam handed Dean an extra flashlight while Dean finished loading a sawn-off shotgun for him. Sam took the last of the tin of salt and shoved it in a small bag as Dean slammed the trunk shot. Throwing the bag over his shoulder, the two walked side by side into the dark, dim forest.

"Well, this is gonna be easy," Dean remarked. "There's a million of old freakin' trees around here."

"It probably has a distinct marking, y'know, one that they could tell it was the tree that led home," Sam explained.

"Who would let their kid run around in a forest anyway?" Dean began closely examining the trees around him. "It's gotta be close to the road, right?"

"It'd make sense if it was," Sam agreed. An idea then kicked in. He turned to Dean. "Do you have the EMF meter with you?" Dean sent him a 'no shit' look. He simply ignored it. "We can use it, to lead us to the grave."

Dean scowled. "I know that."

Sam only rolled his eyes and waited for Dean to pull out the old looking busted up walkman. Dean fiddled with the buttons and turned it on. It didn't squeal like it normally would in the middle of spirit activity, which meant they were very cold.

Dean began walking, followed the slight squeal as he adjusted the position of the antenna was turned. It was becoming apparent that Dean's patience was wearing thin; especially as the wind seem to get colder.

"Maybe she was never buried here."

Sam shook his head. "I'm not so sure about that."

Dean pursed his lips and continued walking. He slightly moved the meter to the right, where it yelped and three of the light bulbs illuminated a faint red. Sam exchanged a glance with his brother and headed that way. The yelp became more of a cry the more they walked, causing a satisfied smile to form on Sam's lips.

A rustle of leaves disrupted the silence. At the same moment, Sam and Dean turned at the noise. It sounded like feet brushing through the dirt and grass that had been covered in leaves by the fall before them.

Dean pointed the flash light in the direction of the noise. A gust of wind blew past them, rustling the trees branches. Sam's older brother studied that area for a moment longer before turning around to continue. Dean's eyes widened and stopped, grabbing Sam's sleeve.

A white figure stood in the distance, still as a statue.

Sam and Dean were cautious to not make any sudden movements. Slowly, Dean lifted his flashlight toward the figure, to make sure it was the spirit they were looking for.

The figure let out a cry, one that echoed throughout the whole forest. She spurted forward, and toward them with lightening speed.

"Sonofabitch!" Dean exclaimed and turned on his heel, running the opposite direction.

Sam was quick on his heels, looking over his shoulder. The figure was a woman, in a long bridal gown and as she entered a beam of light, the blood on her gown glistened. The woman's face was concealed by the vale over her head, but her long black hair was generally noticable.

Dean aimed back, pulling the trigger of his shotgun and only missing her by a few inches. The spirit cried out again, an angry cry.

Before Sam knew it, he felt a puncturing grip on his shoulders and was immediately thrown toward a tree. He grunted as his back hit against the bark, disrupted some leaves to fall from its branches. Without missing a beat, the bride stood above him. He stared up at her, gazing through the vale into the gray eyes of a crazed and inhuman Kathy Richardson.

"Sam!" Dean called out.

He ran up toward Kathy, and aimed his gun but she immediately vanished. He scowled, looking around the area. Dean then came up to Sam, helping him back on his feet when he suddenly cried out in pain. Kathy appeared visible behind him, and threw him back a few feet.

"Dean!"

Sam scrabbled onto his feet and immediately made a dash to avoid her. However, his foot caught under a large tree root, forcing him to tumble over. He muttered a curse and looked up at the tree that caused him to fall. It was definitely old, and from what he could decipher, it was probably dead. There were no leaves growing on the branches and the bark was coming off in big chunks. There was a carved marking on the tree, one that appeared to be an arrow aiming right.

Sam felt something grab his sleeve roughly, throwing him on his back. The bride crouched over him, her hand grabbing his throat. Sam gasped out and grabbed at her hand that was stone cold against his skin. The bride lifted him up in the air without much effort.

Sam's eyes began to water as he wheezed, slowly suffocating. His gaze averted beyond Kathy's shoulder where Dean jumped back on his feet, picking up the shotgun. He aimed it at Kathy's back, and pulled the trigger. Before he heard the shot, Sam fell back to the floor, the grip on his neck gone. He looked behind him; the rock salt had punctured the bark of the tree.

"Sonofabitch!" Dean shouted again.

"Dean, behind you!" Sam cried out. He quickly got back on his feet, the bride running towards his brother. "This way!" He gestured his brother to follow him.

Dean immediately complied and ran after Sam whom followed the direction of the arrow. If he was right, it would lead back to the road. The brothers dodged around branches and over protruding roots while the bride screamed crazily behind them. Sam could see an opening in the distance. He gained more speed and ran through, running across the road and back to the Impala. He ran around toward the passenger side while Dean entered through the driver door. He reached inside his pocket and pulled out his keys, shoving it into the ignition.

"Hurry," Sam urged.

"What the hell do you think I'm doing?" Dean muttered as he turned the ignition on, and slammed his foot on the gas, just as the bride approached a foot closer to the vehicle.

They jolted forward and onto the road. Sam looked into his side view mirror toward the reflection of the white bride, Kathy Richardson, whom stood in the darkness of the road, before vanishing with the wind.

--

Jamie had finally fallen back to sleep, thanks to the strength of the Tylenol she swallowed. Sara pulled the sheets over her sleeping figure and made her way toward her sketch book that lay on the edge of the bed. She picked it up and placed it onto the table by Sam's laptop.

For a moment, Sara stared at the brown leather covered journal that sat on the other side of the laptop. She looked back at Jamie, whom looked like she could be in a coma. Sara took a seat at the table, and picked up the journal, cautiously opening it up as if it were Pandora's Box. She skimmed through the pages, intrigued by the little notes and images John Winchester had done on each and every page.

"This man writes like a philosopher…," she muttered to herself.

She studied the pages a little longer until she felt like she was intruding, putting back the journal in its original place. She sighed and pulled out her cell phone, checking if there were any missed calls from the time she had been away from it. There was none.

Boredom brought her to fiddle through the settings and files, looking through 'call history'. She selected the 'call received list'. For a moment, she didn't see anything out of the ordinary, not until the name Andy caught her eye. It was at the top of the list. She furrowed her brow and selected the name in order to find further detail on the call. It was made during the night before. It lasted just about ten minutes. _That couldn't be right_. Sara hadn't talked to him since the morning they got here.

Before a theory could develop, a hard knock came at the door, a voice booming at the other side. "It's us!"

Sara dropped her phone onto the table and jogged to the door, unlocking and opening it just as before. She watched the brothers as they entered in, filthy with dirt, even some leaves stuck in Sam's hair.

"What the hell happened to you guys?"

"Bridezilla happened to us," Dean replied with a grunt as he brushed off some of the dirt from his pants.

Sara looked up at Sam for an explanation. He only shrugged one shoulder. "I've never seen a spirit so angry before."

"You mean she chased the _two_ of you out of there?" she asked with disbelief.

Dean scratched the back of his head, feeling some tiny residue of dirt in his cropped short strands. "Eh, I need a shower."

Sam began pulling off his jacket. "Where's Jamie?"

Sara pointed toward the bed. "She's completely passed out. I'm surprised she didn't wake from all the noise you guys made." She then added, "Are you guys okay? Injured?"

"Just a little bruised," Dean confessed. "The crazy broad threw us around like ragdolls. Two people aren't enough for this job…" Dean took a moment to register what he had just proposed. He looked up to Sam, his eyes calculating.

Sam furrowed his brow before his face turned to a frustrated realization.

Sara tilted her head with confusion. "You guys are having a silent discussion here that I can't translate. What are you two thinking?"

Dean was quick to answer before Sam. "We'll talk about this tomorrow," he said, his focus toward his younger brother. "C'mon Sara. Let's go to our room and get some sleep."

Sara sighed but decided not to persist on the subject. She grabbed her phone from the table and followed after Dean out the door.

Sam absently locked the door behind them and strode through the room, deciding against cleaning up the salt from the floor. He approached his laptop when his eye caught the black leather bound sketch book that Sara had left. He picked it up, taking a step toward to door to return it. But he stopped and found himself opening the book. He found many sketches of random people, drawn in either content or coloured pencils. Turning the page, he found an image that caught his eye, one of Evan Williams and Charles Brown. He was intrigued for a moment before turning the page again and his brows immediately furrowed.

There were sketches that were either scratched out or poorly erased. One that was only half complete alarmed him. It was in the shape of the _Sigil of Baphomet_, which confused Sam greatly. Why would Sara have a symbol like this is in her sketch book? Sam felt like this was important, and an issue that he really should discuss with his brother. Sam closed the book with a frown, and decided to take a nice hot shower to wash off the dirt in his hair and face.

--

When Sara opened her eyes to the new morning, she couldn't fall back to sleep, leaving her frustrated and exhausted. Slowly she sat up, throwing the sheets away from her body. She glanced toward her left. Dean was still fast asleep; his body sprawled across the bed, his sheets all over the place.

It was a weird sight. Usually Dean would be awake before she was. Sara took the time to check the clock on the nightstand. It was only seven o'clock in the morning. Sara groaned and lifted herself from the mattress. There was no way she was going back to sleep. She glanced at Dean one last time, making sure he was still asleep before grabbing her phone and making her way to the washroom. She closed the door and began dialling Andy's number. It was kind of early, but if Andy missed her as much as he said, time wouldn't matter. However, after the third ring Sara became discouraged. She was about to give up after the fourth, when it was interrupted halfway.

"It's a little early, don't you think?" Andy sounded extremely tired.

"I'm sorry, I couldn't sleep," Sara replied with a nervous smile. When Andy didn't reply, Sara decided to continue. "Um, did you call me last night?"

"Yeah." Was all he said.

"Okay, well, I was checking my phone and it said the call lasted for ten minutes…" Sara trailed off, hoping that Andy would understand what she was asking from him.

Andy was silent for a few long seconds. "I had a little chat with your so called 'friend'."

Sara furrowed her brow. "What?" She leaned her back against the counter.

"Oh, he didn't tell you?" Andy asked with a snide voice. "Yeah, the asshole answered your phone."

"Dean?" Sara whispered.

She thought further, remembering last night after talking to Dean she went to the washroom to change. That had to be when Andy called again. Dean must have answered the phone while she was changing.

"Is that his name?"

She ignored the question, her anger beginning to flare. "What did he say to you?"

"He told me not to call you anymore. And if you wanted to talk to me, you'd call me yourself." Andy was quiet for a moment. "Sara, who is he to you?"

Sara closed her eyes. "He's just a friend."

"Are you lying to me?"

"Whoa," Sara said, "you of all people are accusing _me_ of lying?"

"The way he was talking…seemed like you two were more than just friends."

"And how would that be any of your business?" Sara practically shouted. "Did you forget the reason why we broke up?"

Andy let out an irritated sigh. "I already apologized about that—a million freaking times."

Sara almost shook with anger. Andy only acted like this when he was jealous, all his pleasantness flying out the window. She hated when he got this way, especially now.

"I'm sorry doesn't exactly make what you did _forgivable_."

"If you didn't—!" Andy stopped in midsentence, calming his rage. He then said in a lower volume, "If you didn't forgive me, why do you bother calling me at all?"

"To be honest, I don't even know," Sara replied rather scornfully. "Maybe Dean was right. It was a pointless entity to think that this could ever work again."

Andy let out a heavy sigh. "And since when have you believed total strangers?"

"Since I found you in bed with another woman."

"Sara—"

Flipping the phone close, Sara threw it down with ire. It slapped against the tiled floor. She placed her head into her hands until she heard the washroom door creak open. She looked up to find Dean staring down at her, his expression unreadable.

She frowned, and quickly began wiping away the tears that were beginning to form in her eyes. Sara hated when people saw her cry. It made her feel weak and vulnerable.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you," she apologized.

"You didn't mean to or you forgot I was even asleep?" Dean crossed his arms tightly over his broad chest. "I woke up to you practically shouting in here. I thought something might have happened."

Sara avoided the formalities, and said, "You heard everything, didn't you?"

"You were pretty loud."

"Fair enough," Sara replied. She watched him, her eyes scrutinized. She couldn't believe he would go behind her back and answer her phone, getting in the middle of an argument he had no part in. This was between Andy and her. No one else had the right to meddle in.

Dean's face changed, realizing why Sara was looking at him in such a way. "Okay, maybe it was out of line to answer your phone, but I can explain."

"Please do," she replied and folded her arms.

"Keeping in contact with anybody back in Colorado can be a really bad idea, especially with the situation your in."

"The demons?" Sara inquired.

"They'll use anything against you, including Andy."

Sara stared at Dean for a long moment, before looking away and nodded her head, agreeing with him. However, she felt that wasn't Dean's only reason. She didn't bother to ask.

Dean let out an audible sigh. "C'mon, let's wake up the others and get some breakfast. What do you say?" A small smile curved his lips.

"I am getting a little hungry." Sara returned the smile, just as small.

"That's the spirit." He turned and walked out the door.

Sara took her time to reach her bed, where she carelessly threw her sheets out of the way so she could sit comfortably. She crossed her leg underneath her and looked over at Dean whom had gone through his bag as he normally did.

"So, the silent discussion you and Sam were having last night," Sara said, "you gonna tell me what it was?"

Dean stopped rummaging through his duffel bag, possibly looking for fresh new clothes, Sara presumed.

"Uh, well…" Dean's brows furrowed, trying to choose his words carefully. "Sam and I, we'll explain it during breakfast. We'll need to talk to both of you together."

Sara's eyes widened as she calculated his words. "Two people aren't enough for this job," Dean had said last night. She now understood what he truly meant.

"Wait a minute. You're not involving us in this hunt too, are you?" She didn't wait for Dean to answer. Sara got on her feet and began to pace. "I should have known, especially when you said that two people weren't enough for this job. And that face Sam gave you… Okay, the spirit in Texas was an easy deal, but this?"

"Sara, calm down. You're blowing it way out of proportion," Dean remarked. "We'll discuss this during breakfast. I'm gonna take a quick shower, so get dressed." As soon as he found the clothes he was looking for, Dean stepped into the washroom, closing the door behind him.

"We'll discuss this during breakfast," Sara imitated with an annoyed tone. Aggravated, she grabbed her bag from the floor, searching something to wear for the day.

--

"Hi there, what can I get you?"

"I'll have your special and a cup of black coffee," Dean ordered.

After Dean's shower, both he and Sara traveled toward Sam and Jamie's room to wake them up for breakfast. They were quick to get ready. Dean drove to the nearest breakfast diner in the town. Considering they had egg and bacon sandwiches, Dean couldn't pass up the chance to eat at this diner.

Sara still looked irritated, which made sense since he evaded answering her question twice already. And since she already knew what the subject of the issue was, her irritation just boiled.

Sara wasn't fond of being involved with the hunts, as she was back in Marlin, Texas, Dean decided. Safety was always a concern, and Dean could understand that fact. She'd been attacked, injured and almost scared to death. Sara wouldn't fancy this idea, no more than Sam would. The look his younger brother gave last night was only foreshadowing his disagreement with Dean's plan. Dean almost felt sorry for Jamie, she had no idea what was going on, or the argument that was about to take place.

"Can I get the same, but I'd like milk in my coffee," Sara said after.

"Make that two."

"Three," Jamie spoke up. Her eyes were half closed, and she looked more exhausted than she had earlier days. The dark circles under her eyes were emphasised by the unnatural paleness to her skin. The Tylenol Dean bought yesterday looked like they didn't help at all.

"Okay, so four specials, with one black coffee and three with milk?" the waitress repeated.

"Yeah," Dean agreed.

The waitress smiled and nodded her head, pocketing her note pad. "Coming right up."

As she began walking away, Dean took the time to crane his head toward her direction, checking out her figure from behind. Since the start of this hunt, he hadn't taken the time to appreciate the beauties that lived in this city. His lips curved as he stared at their waitress' black skirt that hugged her rear, almost painfully tight.

"Okay, we're both here. Are you going to explain _now_?"

Dean shot his eyes on Sara. If looks could kill...

"Explain what?" Sam asked. He looked toward Dean, and from the change in his confused expression, it looked like Sammy figured it out himself. He groaned and tapped Dean's shoulder. "Can I talk to you alone for a minute?"

Dean rolled his eyes and slid out of the booth, followed by his brother. He strode across to the end of the diner, just by the restrooms, before turning toward Sam. He was dreading this part, but Dean understood it was something he had to be accustomed to. Generally, Sam had always been adverse with his decisions.

"Well?" Dean said, "Lay it on me."

Judging by Sam's expression, he didn't look virtually impressed. "Tell me what you have planned. And it better not be what I'm thinking."

"Well, that all depends." Dean smiled. "What are you thinking?"

"You're going to involve them in this hunt, aren't you?"

Dean chuckled. "It's almost funny how well you know me."

"Dean, we can't keep doing this," Sam argued.

"Doing what?"

"Putting them in danger just because it's convenient for us. It's not fair to them."

Dean's jaw clenched, his lips straightened. "We got our asses handed to us last night, Sam. Two extra bodies isn't convenient, it's an obligation."

"What are you going to use them for? Decoys?" Sam scoffed.

"No. Yes." Dean's jaw tightened. "I don't know yet."

"They might be useful, but we promised these girls that we'd keep them _safe_."

"We _will_, while doing the job."

Sam's eyes narrowed. "You're unbelievable, you know that?"

"You know as well as I do that we can't haunt this spirit with just the two of us," Dean said, using his most dominating voice.

Sam sighed heavily. "Fine. What's your plan?"

"I like the decoy idea."

"We're not going to use them as bait!"

Dean smacked his brother's shoulder. "Would you keep your voice down? Only one of them will be used as bait. The other will be with you or me to torch the body."

Sam appeared to be considering the idea. "The two of us can pretend to be a married couple as decoys…"

Dean grinned. "Now you're thinking. So, who do you want to be married to?"

Sam frowned. "This isn't a game, Dean," he scolded. "How about we let the girls decide."

Dean blew out a long breath. "Fine, if you have to be so formal." Dean didn't stay long enough to give Sam a chance to retort back. He retreated his way back to the booth where the women were already scorching down their morning meals. He waited for Sam to slide in behind his plate before doing the same.

Dean watched as Sara drank from her mug before he said, "We're going to use you as decoys."

Sara almost spat out her coffee. "As _what?_"

Dean sent a cheeky grin. "Well, only one of you will be a decoy."

"I'm sorry, but _what?_"

Jamie frowned. "Does someone want to please fill me in? Because I obviously missed something here. Again."

"Well," Sam said, "Dean and I went back to the forest last night. We had some idea where the spirit's body is buried. Unfortunately, Kathy Richardson is an extremely angered spirit. We couldn't go anywhere near the burial and ward her off. We might need your help this time."

"We_ are_ going to need your help," Dean corrected. "We need a decoy while two of us find the body and salt and burn it." He took a large bite out of his sandwich. The salty taste of the bacon was almost to die for.

"Two of us need to steer the spirit away from the burial. Dean and I think the best way is if two of us act as a married couple."

"So, who wants to be Sam's wife?" Dean asked.

Sara shuddered. "I don't think I ever want to get a spirit's attention again, not since that pitchfork almost fell on me." Sara glanced at Jamie expectantly.

She almost looked like she could go back to sleep, but with one sip from her mug she nodded her head. "I will."

"Sam and Jamie will be the newly weds, Sara will be my new hunting partner. We'll have this hunt done by midnight." Dean threw the last piece of his sandwich in his mouth.

"Uh, maybe we should at least try to make it look like Jamie and I are wife and husband," Sam inquired.

"What do you mean?" Dean asked through a mouth full.

"Buy some cheap gold wedding bands."

"I think I saw a jewellery store we passed by coming down here in the busier part of the city," Sara spoke up and finished the last of her coffee.

The group took their time to actually enjoy their breakfasts. Since the passing days, they ate quickly and immediately went back to the road. At times they didn't even stop by a breakfast diner. Sometimes they'd eat in the Impala, while Dean joggled the food in his hand and driving at the same time. It was only during hunts did they settle down and eat a proper meal conventionally.

Dean had paid for the meal this time, without an objection from Sara. He guessed it was because of the way he reacted at the seafood restaurant. Tangible guilt hit him. He'd admit, that night he acted like a real pompous dick. It was his mistake, and he was only human. The protocols they made because of the demons had to be followed. If Sara paid for the meal with her credit card, Dean didn't know what he would have done. Sara was being considerate, this he knew. But consideration and the wellbeing of them all just didn't balance.

Dean drove the Impala down the road, toward the jewellery store that Sara said she'd seen. It was a corner shop, with a giant white and yellow sign labelled, Oliver's Jewellery. There was no parking lot around that was empty, so Dean stopped the car by the side of the road.

"Sara and I will stay by the car so we don't get any tickets. Be quick," Dean said toward Sam.

Sam got out of the car along with Jamie who actually looked more awake now that the caffeine in her system decided to finally kick in. He opened the door for her and entered inside. The small shop was packed with glass cases all filled with expensive necklaces, bracelets and rings. The bell above the door sounded as it closed behind them. Rustling was heard from the back room before an older man came out with a beaming face.

"Hello, how can I help you?"

Sam put on a friendly smile. "My wife and I have been looking for a place to buy our wedding bands." He brought Jamie closer to him to make the illusion that they were a couple. He felt her stiffen for a brief second before she relaxed against him. He breathed in, inhaling the sweet scent of her bronze coloured hair. The top of her head just reached up to his chin, yet her body fit well against his. Images of the dream returned to him and he swallowed hard. Sam created a safe space between him and Jamie before his body would respond to the images concocted within his mind.

_Control, Sam. Control._

"You two already married?"

"Uh, we couldn't afford the wedding bands sooner," Jamie chimed in. "So hear we are." Her lips barred a brilliant white smile. She really did have a beautiful smile.

The old man's pleasant attitude didn't falter. "What kind are you looking for? Silver? Gold? White gold?"

"Gold," Sam said. "Preferably two of the same."

"Okay, lemme see what I have here." The old man pulled out a piece of tied rope, which hung a bundle of keys. He picked one and knelt down to unlock the case he stood behind. He pulled out a tray of different rings and placed it on the counter.

Jamie and Sam leaned in at the same time to take a look.

"If you're looking for a decent price"—he pulled out one of the golden rings—"this might be what you want."

Sam took it in his hands and studied it. It was bold enough, something that'd be easily noticed. "Do you have two of these?"

"Sure thing. I'll need to take your measurements though and see if I have your size in stock."

"Sure, no problem."

--

Dean waited, leaned against the side of his Impala with his hands shoved in the pockets of the old brown leather jacket given to him by his father. He glanced toward Sara who was in the passenger seat, looking through Dean's box of his cassette collection. He watched her, unintentionally.

She appeared to be in a better mood than earlier. Dean assumed that most of her irritation hadn't come from his idea of involving the two women in their hunt. Either she was annoyed by him for answering her phone and meddling in her life where he had no right meddling, or what Andy said on the phone had really gotten to her. A spurge of hatred attacked him so hard, it surprised him. He didn't like Andy and he couldn't justify himself by answering why.

Dean found himself inspecting Sara's attributes. She was beautiful, this he'd agree on. And although she seemed more self-conscious because of the dark bruises on her face—that have faded substantially since then—he still saw her as how she looked the first time he'd seen her. Her dark, chestnut brown hair fell to her shoulders in voluptuous waves, which he thought was her best feature—not mentioning other bodily parts that Dean honestly wanted to name. He always did find his body responding when ever her full, soft lips curved, when her hips swayed as she walked, when her bosom rose as she inhaled, the way she confessed that she thought he was attractive—

_Stop it, man_, Dean thought, _she's off limits, remember?_

It had been a while since Dean had taken the time to release his sexual desires. Usually, after a hunt, Sam and him would go to a bar and essentially celebrate on a job well done. Dean's rendition of celebrating was a cold beer and a gorgeous woman by his side. And if he played his cards right, he'd get lucky that night. Unfortunately, they haven't stepped into a bar since Texas and Dean found himself taking his sexual frustration onto Sara Collins. It surprised him that he didn't find himself scanning Jamie's movement as much as he did with Sara. Jamie was just as beautiful. Those eyes of hers… Any man would fall head over heels over them. He would have too if Sara's attitude hadn't guiding him toward her direction. He always did like frisky women.

_Damn, I really need to get laid._

Prying his eyes away from Sara's features, he watched as her lips pursed looking through his classic rock collection. "I don't think you'll find anything there you'll like," he said.

"You kidding me?" she replied and Dean assumed immediately that she was no classic rock fan. And for some reason, he was disappointed.

"You can turn on the radio—" Dean stopped in midsentence as Sara pulled out a cassette case, opened it up and inserted the tape in the player. She boosted up the volume and pressed play. Drums and a guitar riff immediately came on. Once Dean listened further he instantly recognized it as "Whiplash" by _Metallica_ from the _Kill 'em All _album.

A bright smile formed on Sara's lips as she bobbed her head to the music, mouthing the lyrics. "Looks like I found one thing we definitely have in common."

Dean turned and placed his arms over the opened window, leaning against the door. He grinned. "I would have never mistaken you for a _Metallica_ fan." The disappointment instantly dispersed. He had high hopes for this woman.

"Why? Because I don't have a female mullet, and dress in all black with a silver spiked collar?" Sara chuckled at the visual, the dimples that Dean hadn't noticed before, in her cheeks deepened. The dimples gave her character, and he liked it. "I grew up to _Metallica_, along with bands like"—she pulled out a few cassettes and began listing them—"_Led Zeppelin_, _Styx_, _White Zombie_—wait a minute. You have _AC/DC_ too?"

Dean smiled widely. She was suddenly more attractive to him.

_Off limits, Dean._

"Another classic rock fan," he said, trying to hide the enthusiastic drawl in his voice.

"I don't just listen to classic. I listen to modern rock too."

Dean grimaced. However, the disappointment didn't return as he expected it would. "Please, all rock died after the nineties."

Sara sent him a surprised expression. "Not true! There are some really good bands out there."

"Name one."

She narrowed her eyes, her lips curved in a snide smirk. "_Nine Inch Nails_. They started in the late eighties but there still going strong. Or how about _Disturbed_?"

"I don't think I've ever heard of them."

"_Deftones_? _Foo Fighters_?"

Dean shook his head. "Nope."

"Okay." She frowned then. "How about _Metallica_'s latest work? 'St. Anger'?"

"The album or the song?"

"The song. I wasn't very impressed with the album. But they still rocked it."

"I did like 'Some Kind of Monster', but I'm more of a fan of their old stuff like _Kill 'em All_ or _Ride the Lightening_."

"_Master of the Puppets_?"

Dean grinned. The woman knew her stuff. "That was a good one too. But still, the new aged rock just doesn't impress me at all."

Sara pursed her lips. "Geez, someone doesn't like change." She looked down at the box, reading through the labelled cases again. "I'm surprised you don't have _Queen_ in here."

He shrugged. "I didn't listen to them much when I was growing up." In fact, all the music he listened to came straight from John Winchester's collection.

"Really? That was my dad's favourite band. One of mine too, because of him."

"Was?" Dean knew very well that Sara's father was deceased; Jamie had been the one to mention it. However, he wanted to hear it from Sara. And he discovered he was curious to know.

A dark shadow of misery over clouded Sara's expression from the question, the bright white smile that was on her lips had faded in an instant along with her characteristic dimples. He immediately felt low for even asking.

"He died, a long time ago."

Judging by the tone of her voice, Sara didn't want to discuss it further. Dean didn't want to push. He understood better than anyone. His mind trailed to the memories he hid in his mind, the images of Mary Winchester, his mother, on the ceiling, on fire—He hated talking about it, especially when his younger brother brought up the subject.

"I'm sorry, didn't mean to bring up bad memories."

She gave a small smile, one that seemed force. And once again, Dean felt guilty for bringing it up.

"That's okay."

--

As the two waited for the old man to return, Sam began averted his eyes toward a large glass case against the wall. He stepped closer to it, his eyes observing the assortment of engagement rings. He felt his stomach churn, unwelcomed memories resurfacing. He remembered the weeks he went through five different jewellery shops on his spare time, looking for the perfect engagement ring he'd propose with, on one knee, as he looked up at Jessica Lee Moore's beautiful face, as he asked her to marry him. He felt his heart painfully twist. He missed her so much.

A painful ache hit his heart again as he thought about the desirable dream he had of Jamie. He felt unfaithful and lower than dirt. It had been only months since her death, and this is what he did to her memory? He scolded his body for reacted as it did to that dream, as it remembered seeing Jamie Leslie's curvy figure, the darkness in her gorgeous green and hazel eyes as she stared up at him, wanting him—

_Control, Sam. Control._

Because if he didn't have control, he'd know his heart would hurt more than just an ache, and his perception of himself wouldn't be anything justifiable. "You're only human," Dean probably would have said to him if he knew Sam's position. Yes, he was only human. But a decent man would only see Jamie as a friend and nothing more, let alone a sexual interest. Sam wasn't a decent man. He wasn't a decent man at all. And he felt like a sex-crazed moron for having that stupid dream.

_I'm sorry, Jessica_.

"Sam? You okay?" Jamie's soft voice came up behind him and his body went rigid.

He turned to her. She was a beautiful, kind woman. That was it. Not a sexual interest, not someone who would rid of his loneliness. Just a friend. _That was it_.

That had to be it.

"I'm sorry. It looks like I don't have your sizes. But if you'd like, I can resize these rings." Jamie and Sam looked back to the old man that had returned from the back room.

"How long will that be?" Sam questioned.

"A couple of hours—it depends whether business will pick up today."

"Okay, well, we'll come by later and pick up the rings."

The older man smiled. "Perfect. You won't have to pay now. You can do it when you come back. My courtesy for your patience."

"Do you take Credit cards?"

"I sure do."

Sam grinned. "Great. Well, we'll see you later."

The man nodded his head. Sam and Jamie took their leave. Sam opened the door once again for Jamie, trying to forget the argument he had with his inner self. From the look on Jamie's face, she knew something was wrong, but she hadn't questioned him. Not like Jessica would have.

Sam internally groaned. He wanted to kick himself for comparing Jamie with Jessica. He was in no position to do so. Not now. Not when it hurt so much just thinking about her again.

When loud music caught his attention, Sam was thankful for the distraction. He turned the corner to find the music coming from the Impala. Sara and Dean were both in the front seat, bobbing their heads to what Sam assumed to be _Metallica_.

"There is no escape and that's for sure/This is the end we won't take any more/Say goodbye to the world you live in/You've always been _bitching_ but now you're _killing!_" Dean and Sara sang simultaneously, their voices both trying to imitate the vocals of James Hetfield. "Searching, seek and _destroy!_"

Sam grinned at the picture and approached the passenger window. "What's going on here?"

Dean lowered the volume and smirked up at him. "Sorry Sammy, take the back seat. I found someone who actually appreciates my _music_."

Sam stifled his laughter, and averted his gaze on Sara. "Please tell me you're joking."

Sara smiled up at him. "Sorry to disappoint you."

Sam chuckled and entered inside the back seat along with Jamie.

"Well," Dean said, adjusting himself to peer at them in the back seat, "where are your rings, newly weds?"

"He didn't have our sizes," Jamie answered. "He said he should be able to resize them in a couple of hours and just to come back later."

"Luckily we have the time." Dean pulled out of park and back onto the road.

"You think the spirit will fall for your decoy?" Sara asked.

"There's a fifty-fifty chance. We can't be certain," Sam replied.

"We'll just find out tonight."

--

Jamie swallowed down her bottle of water to help rid of the mustard taste in her mouth. Dean had purchased hamburgers for dinner from a local fast food joint. And if Jamie had any idea they put mustard in their burgers, she'd boycott the fast food joint all together.

She grimaced. She could still taste it in her mouth. Why did they have to put so much mustard?

"You okay?" Dean asked her with a raised brow.

Jamie could only imagine what her face looked like to him. She squirmed uncomfortable on the hard chair. "I can't get the taste of mustard out of my mouth."

Dean gave a short chuckle, which immediately concluded when the motel door opened. Sam entered inside, a bag in his hands.

"Got the rings?"

"Yeah," Sam answered his brother. He pulled out two boxes from the black plastic bag and threw the bag on one of the beds. He handed one box to Jamie and kept the other one for himself.

She watched him longer than she intended to. The look of anguish Sam had in his eyes earlier had vanished. But she still found herself worrying about him. He just looked so lonely in the jewellery store, looking at the engagement rings with contempt. She wondered why, and a series of possibilities hit her stone cold it almost made her lose her balance. He once loved someone he lost, someone he might have been engaged to, or was at least thinking of wanting to be engaged to. That was Jamie's most logical explanation.

She wished she understood the feeling, but she hadn't found a man she wanted to spend the rest of her life with and lost him. Jamie was very independent, and having a man in her life was normally not at the top of her list. However, when she saw the hurt in Sam's eyes as he thought of that special someone, she felt a spurge of loneliness herself. She almost wished a man looked just like how Sam looked, thinking about her when she wasn't around. Her wish caught her off guard more than she expected it to.

Jamie silenced her thoughts then and opened the black box in her hand to fine a golden wedding band that was exactly her size. She pulled it out and slid it on her ring finger. It was a perfect fit. She glanced at Sam who had done the same thing, the loneliness returning. Would she ever be married to a decent man like him? The thought was nearly foreign.

Dean grinned to himself and stood up from his seat, rolling up the hamburger rapper into a ball and throwing it onto the table. He strode toward the washroom door, where he knocked three times.

"Sara, hurry up. We're gonna get going soon."

"I'm coming!"

Sara stared at the washroom door for a second before checking the reflection of her back in the mirror. She stared at the ugly burn. It was the same as how she last saw it. She felt the pulse of pain once again when they returned back to the motel. Why did this stupid symbol randomly hurt? Sara wished she knew the answer. She had to tell the brothers, but she didn't know how or when she should.

Sara threw her shirt back over her head and pulled it down. She couldn't tell them now. Maybe the perfect opportunity would be after they hunted the spirit. She'd tell them then, and hopefully they wouldn't be angry that she'd kept something like this from them. Something that possibly shouldn't have been a secret at the very beginning.

She flipped her hair out of her shirt and pulled the hair band she had wrapped around her wrist. Quickly she tied her hair in a messy, wavy ponytail. She exited out of the washroom with an apologetic smile.

"Ready for your first real hunt, ladies?" Dean was all smiles, which kind of concerned her.

Sara grabbed her brown leather biker jacket from the bed closest to her and threw it on. She sighed lightly. "Let's get this over with."

This time, Sam went back to his original claimed place in the passenger seat while Sara returned to the back. Jamie had looked nervous in the motel, Sara observed, but now she seemed fine. Sara was quick to see right through her. However, Sara decided not to mention it and stayed silent while Dean started up the ignition.

"Hey, Sara, _AC/DC _or_ Black Sabbath_?" Dean asked, both cassettes in his hands.

Sara thought for a moment. Compared to _AC/DC, Black Sabbath _seemed more appropriate for the events about to take place. "I'm feeling _Black Sabbath_."

Dean ejected the _Metallica_ labelled cassette that was still in the player and inserted the _Black Sabbath _one. He pressed play and immediately the song 'Warpigs' came on the speakers. Dean pressed on the gas and guided the vehicle onto the road that would lead to Grand River forest.

The group was listening in toward the end of the song 'Paranoid' by the time they reached the forest. Sara thought it was ironically sad that this song would be next just as they were reaching toward the side of the road to park. Dean turned off the engine, just when Ozzy Osbourne was singing the last verse. He gazed outside his window for a moment, just as the wind blew by, sounding like the howl of an animal.

"Okay," he said to himself and opened his door, stepped out of the car. Everyone else followed suit.

The group rounded the Impala toward the trunk. Dean unlocked it with the keys he had in his hand and pushed it up. He opened up the secret compartment, placing one of his shotguns up right to hold the lid, revealing the disturbing yet impressive collection of weapons. Dean opened up one of the sawn-off shotguns to make sure both barrels were loaded. He handed one to Sara.

"Have you ever fired a gun before?"

"No." Sara looked down at the gun in her hands. It was heavier than she thought it would be.

"There's nothing really to it. Just aim and pull the trigger. Be ready for the after shock though, especially with a shotgun."

Sara nodded her head, making that an important mental note.

Dean pulled another sawn-off and handed it to Sam. "Just in case," he explained. Sam hid it within his jacket. Dean pulled out another for himself, along with a tin of salt, matches and two shovels.

"Maybe we should have walky-talkies too, so we can keep in contact," Sam suggested. He pulled out two yellow walky-talkies turning them both on and handed one to Dean. He pocketed it and closed the trunk.

"Okay, Jamie you stay close to Sam. Both of you act like a married couple; try to get the spirit's attention. When you see her, contact us and we'll go and unbury her body, salt and burn it, alright?"

Both Jamie and Sam nodded their heads. "C'mon Jamie," Sam said, placing his hand on the small of her back, leading her down the side of the road and into the night.

"Are we going to wait here until we get the call?" Sara asked Dean as they watched them go.

"We have to make sure that Kathy Richardson is busy chasing those two before we go to her gravesite, or else we're screwed."

--

It was a cold night and Jamie found herself tightening her coat closer to her body. She walked by Sam's left side, looking around the area for a crazy woman with a white bridal dress covered in blood. The thought of it honestly creeped her out. When she heard a noise in the forest, she took a step closer to Sam.

She felt Sam's hand sneak its way into hers, causing her to look up at him in confusion. His skin was warm against hers, inviting, but still very unexpected.

He looked embarrassed but kept his voice even. "I was thinking we should make it legit that we're a couple, maybe it'll make the spirit manifest faster."

Jamie agreed with him. She held his hand with a natural amount of pressure and walked along side with him, trying to ignore how easily her small hand molded into his large hand.

"So, uh…" Sam trailed off and smiled nervously, his boyish dimples visible.

Jamie smiled also. "Yes?"

"How did you and Sara first meet. I mean, how long have you two been friends?"

Jamie tried not to laugh. Sam wasn't subtle about starting up an easy conversation so that the atmosphere wasn't so quiet. Nevertheless, she was grateful for the distraction.

"We met at an orphanage. Sara was a rebellious child when she came, and for some reason she befriended me. I think it was because I didn't talk much back then, and I was the only person that hadn't avoided her because she was such a troublemaker. I was a really quiet kid."

"You two are both orphans?" Sam asked, astonished. Jamie forgotten that she only had this discussion with Dean. His older brother must have not told him.

"Technically, yes. Sara came in after the death of her father. Um, we were around thirteen then when we met." Jamie was quiet for a moment before she looked up at Sam. "How about you? How did you get into all this hunting business?"

Sam frowned for a moment before a small smile formed on his lips. It didn't reach his eyes. "Uh, my mother died when I was a baby. Apparently something killed her, something evil. Since then, my father had been tracking down the thing. He raised us, trained us. We traveled around America, working on hunts." He inhaled. "But, I was never interested in that sort of thing, y'know? So I left, went to college."

Jamie nodded her head and looked down the road ahead of her. "College, hm? What were you studying?"

"I was in Stanford, studying law." He shrugged a shoulder. "Then, Dean came by, saying Dad was missing and that he needed my help to find him. We've been on the road ever since." He gazed toward Jamie. "How about you? You went to college didn't you? What were you studying?"

"Yeah, I went to Adam State. I was studying to be a teacher." Jamie grinned. "I originally wanted to be a child psychologist—for personal reasons—but I couldn't afford going to University so I stuck with something small."

It was not entirely the truth, but Sam didn't need to know. He didn't need to know her personal reasons; the reasons why she wanted to reach out to those poor children out there, those kids she labelled as victims. Her stomach twisted at the thought. Unfortunately, money wasn't the only issue that stopped her from following her dreams. She just simply wasn't ready to use her experience to help. She wasn't ready to talk about her experience without crying and feeling the fear she tried so hard to get rid of once again. She wasn't ready because she still felt like a victim.

"Must've been hard, not having the money to do what you wanted," Sam said, snapping her out of her reverie.

Jamie shrugged. "Sara and I got by. It wasn't easy, but we got through okay."

"I'm sorry."

Jamie titled her head then. "For what?"

"This road trip, it's probably screwing up your lives over."

Jamie almost laughed. "That's definitely the truth. But, it's not your fault that demons are after us. You're protected us, we should be thanking you."

Sam smiled at that, and a comfortable silence lingered between the two. Jamie wondered when the stupid spirit would just appear already. It's not that she hated talking to Sam—that was actually soothing—it was just knowing that something was out there, about to jump out in any minute made the anticipation unbearable. When Sam began whistling, Jamie's attention was immediately backed on him. He was whistling a song that sounded somewhat familiar, but Jamie couldn't name it.

"I'm jealous." It slipped off her lips before she realized what she was saying.

Sam stopped whistling. Bewildered, he asked, "Of what?"

Jamie flushed, now feeling like a fool. "The fact that you can do that. I was the only one in the orphanage, or through my teen years that didn't know how to whistle."

"Are you serious?"

Jamie's face got redder. She suddenly felt very small.

Sam chuckled, but it wasn't _at_ her. "It's really not that hard. Just blow through your mouth. Just blow lightly, not hard."

Jamie tried, but failed. She laughed at herself. "This is so embarrassing."

Sam laughed with her. "You'll get it, just—"

And that's when the noise interrupted.

Once again it sounding like feet, brushing through the leaves that lay on the grass of the forest just a few feet away from them. The sound was alarming. Someone or rather some_thing_ was coming.

Jamie hadn't noticed that her hold on Sam's hand tightened. She was closer to Sam now, she could feel the heat radiate from his body. Sam was alert, his eyes searching the area. He pulled the walky-talky from his pocket, pressing the speak button.

"Dean, I think we got her attention," Sam spoke into it.

Dean's voice came through with minor static. "_Good job, Sammy. Sara and I are on way to the burial_."

Sam pocketed the walky-talky back into his pocket and observed the area once again.

Jamie inhaled sharply, trying to calm herself. But it frightened her, more than ever, that a spirit was about to appear, a spirit that was violent enough to make Dean and Sam run back to the motel with their tale between their legs.

She glanced at the forest, expecting to see something white dash through the trees, but there was nothing. She looked passed Sam's shoulder, down the road and her voice caught in her throat.

Sam hadn't realized her body had stiffened beside him, and though he looked directly in the direction Jamie was looking, he turned away as if nothing was there.

_How could he not _see_ it?_

A woman stood in the distance, in a white bridal gown, covered in blood. A vale covered her face. She stood there, pale, like a statue. Jamie had seen a lot of horror movies during her time, but that was by far the scariest thing she'd ever witnessed. And Sam had turned away from it, as if he was _blind_.

"Sam."

"Sshh," he silenced her, trying to hear for the spirit.

"_Sam_," she called out in a more firm tone. He looked at her then. "Look."

Sam did and at first, it looked like he didn't see anything. Was she going crazy? But then Sam eyes squinted just before they widened.

The white bride howled and then ran. Jamie never saw a woman with a dress that big and long run so fast. And she ran, like a damn cardio athlete.

"Go," Sam whispered before tightening his hand on hers. "Just _go!_"

The two broke into a sprint, opposite of the bride, whom cackled behind them. Jamie tried to run as fast as she could but Sam was at an advantage with his long legs that he was practically dragging her behind him. Jamie looked behind her toward the spirit to see her gaining up behind them. And she was gaining _fast_.

"Jamie, don't look back!" Sam shouted. "Just run!"

--

"_Dammit_," Sara cussed as she tried pulling the heel from her boot out of another patch of mud. She loved these boots dearly, that she honestly didn't know why she brought them, just so they could be abused in such a way. She had forgotten that a forest was just plane dirt and uneven ground, not to mention that the dirt had become soggy from the rainy days before them. She felt like an in adequate moron.

Dean looked back at her incredulously, making her feel more embarrassed of herself. "Why'd you wear those anyway? You knew we were going to a forest, with _mud_."

Sara glared at him. _Thank you for being so sensitive._ "I know. I'm an idiot. Would you just help me out here?"

"Gotta say the magic word."

Sara growled. "_Please_."

Dean laughed, reaching for her hand and pulling her out of the mud. It made a nasty splotching noise.

"Thanks," she said quietly.

"Yeah." Dean peered down to her feet. "Those are some sexy boots, but next time, wear sneakers or something."

Sara considered Dean's compliment before rolling her eyes at him. "Thank you Captain Obvious. Can we just find the body now?"

A howl broke the silence of the air.

Sara jumped and immediately grabbed Dean's arm in fear.

Dean grinned slyly beside her. "Do you want me to hold your hand?"

Sara flushed with humiliation. "Shut up."

Another howl sounded.

Serious now, Dean began walking again. "We should hurry."

Sara decided not to retort this time. She kept the shotgun cradled in one hand, while the other held on Dean's arm. She didn't want to let go, even if it was ridiculous. Dean had the shovels in his hand, resting on his shoulder, his shotgun in the other. He navigated his way through the forest, same way he went with Sam. He then stopped in front of a large old, dead tree. Its branches were robbed of any greenery. Sara pulled her hand away from his arm, as he threw the shovels down.

"The body's buried here?" Sara asked.

"We think so," Dean replied. He pulled off his jacket, along with his long sleeved plaid shirt and placed it on the ground. "Let's get digging." He handed her a shovel.

Sara just sighed, pulling off her own jacket and took the shovel. Dean began digging in the dirt, and Sara noticeably watched as his back muscles constricted against his black t-shirt. She observed as his biceps flexed every time he drove the shovel into the ground effortlessly. It was almost painful to watch.

_No, Sara,_ she lectured, _just don't._

However, she still found herself staring. Dean was attractive, yes, but Sara had just gotten out of a one year relationship and being with another man just wasn't realistic at this time. Sara had dismissed Dean enough times whenever he seemed to flirt with her, but secretly—and this she'd only keep to herself—she liked it. She liked it more than she wanted to. More than she should have. That was one reason why she didn't mention earlier that she honestly liked his music. It was just another reason Dean would hit on her—and she wasn't being self-centered on that fact because she felt the need to do it too.

Andy was extremely attractive, funny and somewhat intellectual. He was all she ever wanted. But he never liked her choice of music, which had been a major impact in their relationship. Her music had always had a major part in her life, in her personality. It was the one thing that made her feel still close to her deceased father. Having Andy embrace that… Words couldn't describe how happy she'd be. But considering his choice of good music was R&B or Reggae, they didn't have the musical bond she wished they had.

But Dean on the other hand… If she let it happen, they'd probably go through hours talking about the best albums out there to arguing about which vocalist had the better voice—The musical bond she always wanted.

_Dammit, Sara. Stop it right now_.

"Hellooo," Dean said, catching her off guard. "You gonna help me, _Princess?_ Or not?"

Sara scowled. "Don't call me Princess."

A wide grin curved his lips at the intensity in her voice.

Maybe, just maybe, if Sara kept pushing him away, kept treating him more like a brother than a potential lover, the need to have him would go away. In theory, it would. But somehow, Sara wasn't so sure.

Sara sauntered to his side and the two dug into the dirt and started the digging. After a long while, Sara wiped the sweat off her forehead.

Dean pulled out the walky-talky and pressed the talk button. "Sammy, everything all right?"

"_Uh, not exactly_." There was static before Sam's voice came back. "_Just hurry up, man. I don't know how long we can run._"

"Hang on there." Dean threw the walky-talky on top of his jacket and walked back to Sara that had been digging alone for the past couple of minutes. "Put your back into it."

Sara gazed over her shoulder at him, sending him a menacing glare.

Dean laughed, and began digging once again. "I'm kidding."

"You better be," Sara replied, frustration getting the best of her. She then muttered, "Or I'll shove this shovel up your ass."

"What was that?"

Sara put on a fake smile. "I said, how much farther?"

"I don't know, probably not much unless this Ashton Lee wanted to hide her well."

Sara groaned as she dug into the dirt. "Stupid men." Dean gazed at her. She grinned. "No offense."

"None taken…I guess." Dean dug into the dirt again, when his shovel hit something. "Yahtzee." He dropped his shovel and knelt down on the dirt, brushing the rest of it out of the way. Under his fingertips, a skull appeared. Skin was still attached to the skull in pieces, eaten away by time and insects. The eye sockets were like pitch dark holes, an unappealing sight.

Sara grimaced. She hoped the contents in her stomach would stay in her stomach.

"Help me out here," Dean said abruptly.

No doubt about it, she was going to throw up.

--

"Sam! I don't know how much longer I can run!" Jamie rasped.

Sam had noticed she'd been lagging behind for the past couple of minutes. He pulled Jamie toward the side of the road and entered the forest, opposite side of where Dean and Sara would be. Sam ran in a straight light, avoiding the twists and turns, so that they wouldn't get lost. He looked behind his shoulder at the spirit who was still at their heels. Suddenly, when Sam took his next step, he felt only air underneath his foot.

"Whoa!" He yelped and tumbled over, down a long steep hill.

"Sam!" Jamie shouted and fell with him.

Sam still had a tight hold on Jamie's hand as they fell. He pulled her closer to his body, making sure they wouldn't be separated on the way down. Sam winced when he felt sticks and rocks scratch against this skin. He was even getting dizzy by the way they rolled on the dirt in the speed they were in. Sam tried to compose himself and closed his eyes, focusing on keeping his head levelled.

Finally, when it seemed like forever, Jamie and Sam hit the hard dirt at the bottom of the hill, where they rolled a couple of more times before slowing to a stop. Jamie lay underneath Sam, squeezed between his weight and the ground beneath her. The two panted for several minutes. Sam could feel Jamie's chest rise and fall against him at every breath. When he felt that he could breathe properly again, he lifted himself so he hovered above Jamie.

"You okay?"

"Now I am." She laughed lightly, still catching her breath. "You're heavy."

Sam grinned apologetically. "Sorry." He stood up and lent out a hand, pulling her to her feet.

The two gazed up at the hill, realizing the howling and screaming they heard behind them was now mysteriously gone.

"Where'd she go?" Jamie questioned.

"Oh no."

Jamie looked at him with bewilderment. "What?"

"We have to warn Dean that we lost her." Sam shoved his hand into his pocket to grab the walky-talky, but his hand only grabbed at emptiness.

"Sam?"

Sam was disgruntled. "I must have lost the walky-talky on the way down." He cussed under his breath. He got on his knees and began brushing the leaves off the dirt ground. "Help me find it."

--

Sara and Dean stared down at the withered corpse of the grave they had finished digging up. It was Kathy Richardson alright, her decomposing body still wearing the white bridal gown she wore the day of her wedding.

"Well, it looks like the rumours were right. Her fiancée did murder her."

Sara groaned in sympathy for her. "What a bastard."

"Pass me the salt, will you?"

Sara grabbed the salt from the ground and handed it to Dean. He poured the salt into the grave, covering the entire body. He pulled the matches from his pocket.

"Bridezilla won't be killing anymore couples—"

A cry interrupted Dean's sentence. It sounded much nearer than it should have, which was definitely not a good sign.

"Dean…," Sara whispered, unsure.

Looking down at the matches, Dean grabbed one and was about to light it when Sara was suddenly knocked away from him. Dean shot his head up, seeing the bride had Sara on the ground.

"Dammit, Sam," Dean muttered under his breath. He picked up his shotgun and aimed it toward the Kathy Richardson's back. She turned her head to him in that instant and before he was able to pull the trigger, the spirit was off of Sara and had tackled him to the ground.

_Shit_.

Dean struggled to get her off, kicking his legs but it didn't do any good.

"_Dean? Dean?_" Sam came on the walky-talky, his voice urgent. "_We lost the spirit. Hurry and burn her remains before she reaches you!_"

"Dammit, Sam!" Dean repeated.

From the corner of his eye, Dean saw Sara scrambling to get back up. She reached for the shotgun she had left by their jacket and aimed toward the spirit. Hesitating, she pulled the trigger. Sara missed by a few inches over the bride's head.

"Not bad, Sara, just try to aim lower!" he choked out with sincerity.

Sara did as she was told but before she could pull the trigger again, the spirit vanished.

"What the hell?" Sara gasped.

Dean attempted to sit up when a terrible pain shot through him. He cried out, the pain unbearable.

"Dean!" Sara shouted.

The spirit manifested once again, over Dean, her hand through his chest. Dean cried louder.

"Shit, shit, shit!" Sara exclaimed.

She dropped to her knees, trying to locate the matches Dean had dropped. She panted with exertion, afraid not to find it in time. However, under a few leaves, she did find the matches and she gasped in relief. Sara quickly jumped back to her feet, lighting a match as she ran to the grave. A spark lit, and Sara grinned, when her foot awkwardly hit the shovels. Sara lost her balance, falling face forward.

The match slipped from her hand, and she watched as it flew in the air toward Kathy's bones. There was no way that small lit fire was going to last long enough to reach the grave. However, Sara didn't have the time to light another. The bride had stopped tormenting Dean, and began making her way toward Sara.

"Oh crap."

Struggling to light another match, Kathy Richardson stopped approaching and stood straight. Her body began to burn and with one final cry, her whole spirit dispersed into ashes.

In disbelief, Sara looked behind her into the grave, where a fire had engulfed Kathy Richardson's remains. The lit match did make it to the grave after all. Sara let out a relieved laugh and turned on her back, catching her breath.

She swallowed the bile down her throat, and called to the older Winchester, "Dean, you okay?"

He only responded with a struggled grunt.

"_Dean? Sara? Somebody answer me_. _Are you guys okay?_"

Dean grunted again and crawled toward the walky-talky. He grabbed it and turned on his back and collapsed. He pressed down the talk button and brought his lips to the mouth piece, still panting.

"Shut _up_, Sam."

He threw the thing to his side and closed his eyes.

--

Everyone was exhausted by the time Dean pulled up to the parking lot of the motel, finding an available slot. It had been one hell of a night, and all Dean could think about was sleep. His chest still hurt a little because of that damn bitch. If Sara hadn't burned the body when she did, his chest might have hurt a hell of a lot more.

Sam was abnormally quiet on the ride back, and every time Dean caught a glimpse of him, his younger brother's face was always thoughtful. For a moment it concerned him, but Dean wanted to groan out load, realizing that Sam probably wasn't going to let him retreat to the luxury of his motel bed before having one of his many _chats_.

Parking the car, he got out, along with the others. He glanced at Sam, who'd given Jamie the keys to their room. Dean was about to follow them, thinking about the good night rest he would finally achieve when Sam grabbed his arm.

"Dude—"

"I need to talk to you." Sam's voice was serious. It only got like that when he had something important on his mind.

Dean sighed anyway. "What's wrong?"

"Something's wrong with _them_," he said. "Just something doesn't add up."

Dean sent a half smile. "Dude, what are you talking about?"

"Jamie saw Kathy Richardson's Spirit way before I did."

"So? Maybe she was more attentive than you." Dean's patience was wearing thin, and his exhaustion was just cutting it short that much faster.

"You don't understand. She saw it _before_ I did. I had looked in the direction she was looking and I didn't see anything. When Jamie pointed her out, the spirit was there."

"I don't get where you're going with this."

"I think she has paranormal sight."

"What?"

"Remember the Carlton case back in Wisconsin? Lake Manitoc? Remember Lucas, the little boy that had sensitivity to premonitions? Like psychic tendencies?" Dean did remember that case well. He related to Lucas, the boy that never talked, not until they finished the hunt. He had confessed to the boy about his mother and how he tried his best to be brave every day, namely for her. "I think Jamie has the same thing, but her sight can clearly decipher the presence of a spirit."

Dean's brows pulled together then. "How?"

"I don't know. But this wasn't the first time either. Back in Texas, she spotted Evan William's in the house way before I did. I think she's keeping something from us."

Dean jaw clenched tightly.

"And there's another thing." Sam's frown deepened. "I was looking through Sara's sketchbook, and I found a sketch of a demonic symbol, the _Sigil of Baphomet_."

Dean's eyes almost widened. "Why would something like that be in her sketchbook?"

"I don't know."

The uncertainty in Sam's voice alarmed Dean greatly. Anger simmered within him, the pain and the fatigue fuelling the fire. Rage hit him intensely, that he could have sworn he almost saw red. They risked their lives keeping these women safe, only to find that they've been hiding secrets. Secrets that should have never been secrets.

Distrust was a hard factor that had been carved in Dean's bones since he was a little boy. The only two people he ever trusted were John and Sam Winchester. To think that he was beginning to trust these girls, only to find out that they've kept something like this from the brothers, made him even angrier.

Dean turned away from his brother and marched toward the motel room. He slammed the door open. Jamie and Sara jumped at his unexpected entrance. Sam approached behind him soberly.

"Is there something you two want to tell us?" Dean almost shouted.

Sara almost laughed at the question. "Like what?" Her voice wavered as she looked up into the flames in his eyes.

"No jokes this time," Dean retorted. He shot his sights toward Jamie. "When were you going to tell us you're like Jennifer Love Hewitt from _Ghost Whisperer_?"

Jamie's brow bunched. And for a moment, she looked like she wouldn't answer. Then, "I don't know what you're talking about."

"I think that's crap," Dean said. "Sam here told me you saw Kathy Richardson's spirit way before he did. Same with Evan William's back in Texas. I want to know what you're keeping from us. I want to know how you have paranormal sight." Dean's shout had become a hiss.

Jamie only looked extremely confused. "I don't know. I saw them, they were there. What do you want me to say?"

"You know, up until now, you're stories have become a little shady." Dean gestured toward both of them. "What with the Tylenol and all. It makes me wonder whether you guys are even saying the truth about yourselves half the time. I mean, ladies, be honest, is it true, Jamie, you've been in an orphanage since you were a baby?"

"Yes."

"No."

Sara and Jamie glanced at each other. Sara's brows were furrowed while Jamie's eyes were wide.

Dean's expression was taut, his hands coiled into tightly balled fists by his sides. "See what I mean? Who's telling the truth?"

Jamie sighed, looking ultimately frustrated. "Okay, I lied. I wasn't at the orphanage since I was a baby. I'd only been there a year before Sara showed up."

"Why were you at the orphanage?"

Jamie didn't look like she wanted to talk about it anymore, but she still answered the question. "I ran away from home, okay? Can we end this stupid interrogation now?"

Dean ignored her. "Why'd you run from home?"

The normally passive Jamie now looked hateful. "That's none of your business." Her voice was acidic and rigid that Dean might have flinched if the ire in him wasn't still boiling.

"Jamie…," Sara whispered toward her friend, reaching her hand to her arm. Jamie recoiled away.

"Everything about you two is _now_ my business! No secrets anymore! I want to know _everything!_"

Still angry, Jamie's eyes looked like they were in a brink of tears. It was a sight that made Dean adjust his composure. To say the least, he was startled. The tears had been something he wasn't ready for. He felt ambushed. And guilty as hell.

"I don't have to deal with this shit."

She brushed passed Dean, ignoring Sam as he reached out to her, and then slammed the door with a loud thud.

"You're a jackass."

Dean raised his eyes that had been narrowed at the wall at the far end of the room. Sara looked hatefully at him, which hurt more than he was ready for, before she said the honest truth. The reason why Jamie couldn't answer his question. The reason why Jamie looked so angry. The reason why there were tears in her eyes before she slammed the door behind her.

"She had an abusive father when she was a child," Sara said clearly, in no attempt to hide the hiss in her voice. "Are you happy you know now? 'Cause that type of personal information must've been really important to _you_."

Sara sent Dean a hard look, before walking past the two brothers and out the door.

The brothers were silent for a moment. Dean's palms were clammy, and he released them. All the anger, all the scrutiny… Dean's body suddenly felt sensitized and numb at the same time.

What had he done?

"We really shouldn't let them go off by themselves."

Sam voice sounded distant to his ears, yet he still heard the strain in his words.

Dean couldn't reply. At that moment, he had no idea what to say.

--

"Jamie!" Sara called out to her. "Jamie, wait." She ran up to her side and caught her arm before her friend could retreat any further.

Jamie turned toward her, her eyes glazed over with such intensity of emotion, Sara withdrew a breath. "They had no right to attack me like that!"

Sara sent a look of sympathy. "No, they didn't. But they didn't know, Jamie. They didn't know."

Jamie turned away and began walking again. "I can't believe you're making excuses for them!"

"Jamie, they're not mind readers. They didn't know about your past, about how hard it was." Sara got back in stride with her. "Yes, they were jackasses for interrogating us like that, but you have to think of it from their point of view. They're two brothers who've been on a road trip for a long time; it's always been just the two of them. Do you think they're going to trust us so quickly?"

"I don't see why my past has any relevance to anything." Jamie's voice was quiet now, and the tears that hung from the rims of her eyes had begun to fall. "Bad enough that I have these damn nightmares again to remind me, now I have Dean asking me every little detail so I can live the experience again? I'm not doing it, Sara. I'm just _not_."

"Jamie…" Sara grabbed Jamie's arm again, stopping her in midstride. "We don't have a choice, you said so yourself."

"I know," she whispered, her voice cracking. Jamie looked up and stared at Sara for a moment before her eyes averted over her shoulder. Her brows furrowed.

"What's wrong?"

"That couple's been following us and staring this way for a while now."

"Couple? What couple?" Sara turned back and stared in the distance.

_Oh my God._

"Run," Sara said, grabbing Jamie's arm.

"What?"

"_Run!_"

Sara pulled Jamie into a fast sprint. She lost her footing for a second before regaining her balance.

"Sara! Sara, what is it? Who are they?!"

"It's them Jamie! The demons!"

"_What?_"

Sara looked back. The female with the orange hair was there, with the very tall man. They ran after them almost instantly.

The female demon laughed loudly, before saying, "What's wrong ladies? Don't you want to play?"

"Sara—"

"Just keep running!" Sara barked.

God, she wished she had her phone on her but when she felt for her pockets, they were all empty. Momentarily, she remembered she threw her phone on the washroom floor. Chances are it was still there.

_Dammit!_

--

"I'll take the Impala in case they got far. Sam, you go on foot," Dean ordered as they walked out the motel.

"Dean." Sam stopped walking and stared at him with a tight frown. "We had no right to do this to them."

"Sam, we'll discuss this later," Dean said in a firm voice.

He walked to his Impala, and unlocked the door, stepping inside. Dean heard his brother sigh, before walking again, across the motel and down the street. Dean turned on the ignition and pulled out of the parking lot and onto the road.

They couldn't have gotten far, Dean thought. He drove slow, searching the streets for any signs of two women walking by themselves, but at this time of night, Dean only saw a few older men walking, one of them being homeless. Dean cursed to himself. He'd agree that he blew it way out of proportion, but what did they expect from him? There was supposed to be no _secrets_ between them and the brothers. Immediately, Dean turned off _Black Sabbath_ from the player. The silence felt much better.

Dean drove through the streets aimlessly, but couldn't find them anywhere. His anger was slowly transforming into growing concern. Where were they?

Suddenly his phone began to ring. Hopefully that was Sam.

Dean struggled to reach into his pocket and pull it out. He studied the caller ID but didn't recognize the number. However, he still flipped it open and pressed the phone against his ear.

"Dean? _Dean?_ Oh God, Please tell me I got the right number!"

Dean's eyes squinted. "Sara?"

"Oh thank God! Dean, you need to help us—" Sara broke into a sob. She began talking really fast but her words were not at all coherent. Dean struggled to understand through her talking and panting.

"Sara. Sara, listen to me. Calm down. Where are you?"

"I-I'm at a payphone."

In the phone, Dean could hear a voice in the background say, "Sara, _hurry_."

Dean clenched his teeth. "Sara, what's going on?"

Sara breathed a couple of times before answering. "The demons…they're here."

Dean inhaled. His heartbeat quickened. "Listen to me Sara, look around you. Do you see any signs that can tell me where you are?" He tried to keep his voice calm, but he could still hear the worry that shrilled his words.

"Um, Jamie and I—we ran toward a building further down the road. Uh, it's called—it's called the Deluxe Inn. It has a red and blue neon sign at the front."

"Okay. Do you see the demons anywhere?"

"N-no. We lost them, but I don't think that's going to last very long."

Dean tightened his hand on the steering wheel, his knuckles going white. He shouldn't have let them run off. This was his fault. "Sara, I want you to find a place to hide, alright? I'll be there in five minutes." He pressed hard on the gas pedal, heightening his speed. "Be careful. _Please_."

With his plea, Sara hung up. Dean could hurt himself for letting this happen, but he didn't have the time. Quickly he dialled Sam's number and brought the phone to his ear.

"Did you find them?"

"Sara called me through a payphone. She said they're staying by a place called the Deluxe Inn. It has a blue and red neon sign at the front. And please tell me you're close by."

"Dean, what's wrong? Are they okay?"

He let out a frustrated sigh. "The demons found them, Sam."

Sam was silent for a moment. "I should be able to find it in a couple of minutes."

"Good. I'm on my way." Dean flipped his phone closed and threw it on the seat.

--

"C'mon," Sara urged and began running again. "We need to find a place to hide."

Hearing Dean's voice on the phone had helped ease the paranoia. But Sara was still frightened. What if the demons caught up to them? What if they beat her like they did before? Worst of all, what if they hurt Jamie?

_No, Sara. Don't do this to yourself. You'll get through this, you have to. You can't let the demons hurt Jamie. Not again. Not like the night you found her tied against her bed._

"Are they on their way?" Jamie asked, her question a shuddered whisper.

"Yeah, I think—" Sara abruptly stopped running.

"Sara?"

A scorching hot pain shot through her back, it felt like her shoulder was on fire. She cried out and collapsed on her knees, holding onto the area where the pain had been coming from, the area where the burn was scarred over her skin. Sara could only distinctly hear Jamie's cries as she dropped to her knees, asking what was wrong. Sara heard a laugh and looked up. There the female demon with the orange hair stood, walking in their direction. Her arm was outstretched, pointing toward Sara, her hand closed in a fist. The male demon grinned behind her.

"Tell me, hon, did you figure out the meaning of that burn I gave you yet?" the female demon said.

Sara couldn't speak, the pain was too excruciating.

"We've been running around like dogs, looking for you. And look what we found. Ms. Jamie Leslie, just the woman we wanted to talk to."

Jamie's eyes widened. "What?"

"Quite the jackpot." The demon laughed.

"Sara, we got to get out of here!" Jamie cried out.

"I—I can't move…," Sara struggled to say through clenched teeth.

"Jamie! Sara!"

Everyone shot their eyes toward the voice. Sam came running, pumping his long legs to reach them. He ran in front of Jamie and Sara and stared down the two demons, his arm out stretched protectively in front of the two.

The two demons blinked at the same moment, their eyes entirely black.

The female demon frowned. "You and your brother have been a real pain in my—"

A loud roar interrupted her sentence. A black Chevy Impala came full speed toward them. The tires squealed as the vehicle turned a full 360. However, the demons were quick to dodge out of the way. The female demon quickly grabbed Sam and threw him across the hood of the Impala.

"Shit, Sam, you okay?" Dean shouted out of his window.

"Don't worry, he's fine."

Dean looked up just in time to be pulled out of his car.

Sara heard Jamie curse as she looked around her. She grabbed a large rock from the ground that had been left astray and turned toward the demon that held Dean up in the air.

"Hey!" she called for his attention. The demon looked her way and instantly, she threw the rock toward his head.

Sara heard a cracking noise as it collided against the demon's face. He dropped Dean onto the floor and doubled over. A loud clank hit the ground as a silver flask slid across the concrete.

Sam pulled himself back on his feet and once again ran toward the protection of Jamie and Sara before being tackled down by the small demon woman. She pinned him to the floor. Sam writhed.

"What's wrong, Sammy boy? Don't like women on top?"

Sam let out a noise of frustration, before his hand reached for the silver flask that was just a few inches away from him. He grabbed, pulled at the lid and splashed her face with a clear liquid.

_Holy Water._

The demon screamed and jumped away from him as steam flowed from her skin.

"Missy!" The male demon called out. He charged toward Sam.

Quickly, Dean ran up behind him, grabbing him and holding his arms in a lock before pouring another flask of holy water into his mouth and down his throat.

The demon screamed in agony and roughly pulled away from him.

"Lucius!" The female demon, known as Missy, cried out.

Dean and Sam regrouped in front of the two young women, both in the stance of a warrior.

The two demons, Missy and Lucius, breathed heavily as they regained their composure. They looked angrily toward the brothers. Missy stepped forward, but Lucius caught her wrist and pulled her back beside him.

"Don't think this is over," he said. "Not by a long shot."

And just like that, they were gone.

The two brothers were panting, looking around the area, making sure it was clear.

Sam turned to the two women. "Get in the car."

"But Sara—I don't think she can get up," Jamie spoke.

Sara tried, but another pain shot through her shoulder and she let out a muffled scream from within her clenched teeth. It hurt like a sonofabitch.

"Sam, take Jamie to the car." Dean approached Sara and knelt down, sliding his hands underneath her. He hoisted her up in his arms and turned to the Impala. "What hurts?" Dean asked quietly as he walked toward the vehicle.

"My shoulder," she managed to say. Sara leaned her head back, wanting to cry. It hurt so much.

Sam pulled the door opened for him, and Dean slid Sara right in. Sara was breathing hard as she held on her shoulder. Every passing second the pain began to subside to the tiniest bit, and Sara found herself sighing.

Dean entered the car along with Sam. He turned his head toward Sara who'd been crouched over, holding onto her shoulder.

"Just hang in there."

Sara slightly nodded her head.

This had been the perfect opportunity to tell them about the burnt demonic pentagram on her shoulder. The opportunity that Sara had been waiting for. And she might have finally figured out what the _Sigil of Baphoment_ could actually mean.


	8. Highway to Hell

Author's note: Um, okay so it's been forever since I last updated... Only excuse? I lost interest. I get bored really easily. I got Season 5 of Supernatural for Christmas and watched it. And the obsession just came back. I had a chat with my co-writer and we decided to try and continue the story. For how long this time? I'm not sure. But hopefully it will be a while.

Disclaimer: I do not own anything pertaining to Supernatural, those rights go to Eric Kripke. But I do however own the personalities of both Sara Collins and Jamie Leslie.

* * *

**Chapter Seven: Highway to Hell**

MILES FROM GRAND RIVER CITY

"We could have taken them! Why did you stop me? We ran from them like cowards! _He_ is not going to be happy about this, Lucius."

Lucius stayed leaned against the wall, his eyes closed. His tall frame was relaxed, which only further angered Missy. She stood by his side for centuries and they rarely disagreed on anything, but this time it was different. Running away from the Winchesters was a poor decision, especially when the women were there for the take. Hell, Jamie Leslie was there too, dammit. How could Lucius run away and pull her along from such an opportunity.

"Answer me!"

He opened his eyes then. "There is no need to raise your voice. We have time."

Missy wanted to rip him into shreds, but she fought the urge. Instead, she crossed her arms tightly over her chest to rid away the temptation.

Lucius stepped away from the wall and approached her. She craned her head to look up at him. Why did he choose to possess such a tall man? Missy looked extremely small in comparison, but she liked this body, it matched her well.

Then, he grabbed her chin and kissed her roughly. It had been a long time since they've been intimate—ever since the damn Winchesters showed up a second time. The anger slowly simmered away and when he pulled away, she wished he hadn't. She still had a hint of a rage inside her and sex was the best way to satisfy that rage. But they didn't have the time. They needed to find a way to get rid of the Winchesters once and for all, so they could finish what they started.

Missy gazed into Lucius' gray eyes, and she hated the colour. She loved his black eyes; they always had so much power over her.

Now calm, Missy asked, "What are you thinking, Lucius? What should we do?"

Lucius' hand traced her cheek, down to her neck, collar bone and shoulder. Missy shivered, longing for his touch. "We will deal with the Winchesters first, and if we plan this right, Collins and Leslie should walk right toward our doorstep."

"Jamie Leslie especially," Missy reminded him. "_He_ wants her the most."

"If Collins comes, Leslie will follow. We'll have them both and have the Winchesters dead before long." He grinned then, the sinister, devilish grin Missy always loved.

Missy grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled him down for a hungry kiss. He immediately responded, rising up her small frame against his body. She barred her teeth into a sly smile. Maybe they had time for sex after.

* * *

GRAND RIVER CITY, LOUISIANA

After the undesired ordeal with the demons, Dean sped the Impala as fast as he was able to back to the River Lodge Motel. He didn't focus on parking straight as he stopped the vehicle into a slot. In that instant he turned off the engine. Both brothers were out of the car in a mere second.

"Sara, are you okay?" Jamie asked, rubbing her back soothingly.

Sara was crouched forward, one hand holding onto her shoulder blade, the other arm wrapped tightly around her stomach. She was rocking back and forth, the infliction still very much present. She was inhaling deeply, making Jamie worry more. Her door then drew open, and Jamie looked up.

"C'mon," Sam whispered as he lent out a hand. His big eyes held concern and care, his brows furrowed with worry. His tall frame was slouched with reserved exertion. Jamie didn't say anything when she took his hand, and he pulled her out of the car.

Dean reached the side of Sara's door, pulling it open. She flinched at the sound of it creaking, her face buried into her knees, a curtain of chestnut brown waves concealing her face.

"Sara," Dean whispered and knelt down to her level. "Sara, c'mon."

Sara unburied her head then, turning to look at him. Wet streaks crossed her cheeks and down to her chin. She'd been crying.

Sara caught her bottom lip in between her teeth, her eyes glazed over. "It hurts."

"I know, sweetheart," he soothed. He lent out his hand and brushed her elbow. "C'mon, you'll be safer in the motel. Can you stand?"

Sara was hesitant to answer. "I d-don't know."

"Dean."

He looked up, seeing Sam watch him with desperation and urgency. Just like Sam, he didn't feel safe being outside either. In one quick motion, Dean swooped Sara into his arms and closed the door to his Impala. Sara had gasped, but not with surprise. She gasped in horror, clenching her shoulder tighter, just where it rested against his own. Dean practically jogged into room number nine.

Sam quickly unlocked it. "Is she going to be alright?"

Dean looked up at him, his brows bunched. He hoped the look on his face would give him the answer. Immediately he entered inside.

"Here, put her on the bed," Jamie said, pushing away a few of her magazines.

Dean set her down gently onto the mattress and she winced. "Sara, did they hurt you?"

Sam had closed the door, and began filling in the line of salt that had been broken.

When Sara didn't answer, Dean looked up to Jamie for help. She nodded once and sat beside her friend, whom had been crouched over just as before.

"Sara, hon, let me help you take off your jacket."

Dean looked at Jamie with confusion, finding her sentence completely out of place in the situation. Sara was reluctant when Jamie began tugged at her brown leather biker jacket from her, positioning her arms to slide it off. Dean's eyes widened, the white t-shirt she wore underneath drenched in blood at her left shoulder blade.

"Shit," he gasped. "I'll go find something to bandage you up." Dean stood up.

Sara caught his hand and held it tightly. "No. Wait." Her voice was drained, the pain in her eyes still evident. She looked up at him. She looked so tired.

Weakly, she pulled on his hand, gesturing him back to the bed. "Sit," she whispered.

Dean looked at Sam questionably. But his younger brother only looked more bemused than he was. Reluctant, Dean took a seat on the edge of the mattress beside her. He squinted at the red splotch on her back, so emphasized against the white of her shirt.

"I have something to tell you guys," she rasped. She inhaled a big gulp of air and didn't say anything for a while.

"Go on, honey," Jamie said, her hand on her shoulder.

For a brief moment, Sara looked up at Sam and then Dean. She looked frightened. Bringing her hand from her shoulder, she looked down on it. Blood had begun to soak her finger tips. Dean gripped the sheets of the bed to try and stop himself from jumping on his feet and finding that damned first aid.

"The day I was attacked by the demons…They did something to my shoulder." Sara inhaled again. "Jamie, can you help me?"

Quickly, Jamie helped Sara tug the back of her shirt over her head so her whole back was exposed. Her long hair fell back into place, and she strained herself to pull her hair around her neck. Her left shoulder blade was red with blood. Before Dean could blink, Sara brought her hand to the blood and wiped it. A muffled groan came from between her lips.

"Th-they gave this to me."

Under all the blood, Dean could see burnt flesh. But it was something he'd never seen before. It looked like a brand, a brand of an inverted pentagram surrounded in a circle. A face of a goat appeared inside of the pentagram.

_The Sigil of Baphomet_.

Her shoulders sagged as she lowered her head. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner."

Dean hadn't realized Sam was beside him, looking down at the branded demonic symbol. His jaw was taut, his eyes squinted.

"That explains the symbol being in your sketchbook."

Sara jerked her head up. "You looked through my sketchbook?" Her voice wasn't outraged as Dean would have expected it to be. Instead, it was alarm.

Sam sighed and sent her a look of apology. "I'm sorry. That was one of the reasons why we interrogated the both of you earlier. We didn't know."

Dean reached out to touch it, and Sara immediately recoiled away. He frowned. "Does it still hurt?"

"Yes," she answered. "I have...something else I need to say." Her brows furrowed. Her hands held tight on her shirt that she held clenched over her chest. "This _thing_ had begun hurting randomly ever since we got here. That's until I realized it wasn't random at all." She closed her eyes. "I feel the pain whenever the demons are near. Missy, the demon girl, had me down on the ground in just a few seconds after I felt the pinch on my shoulder. I think they have control over it, whether it will hurt me or not."

Jamie sighed and stood up. "I'm going to find something to clean the blood." She left toward the bathroom, coming back in a few short seconds with a wet cloth. She dabbed it onto the brand and Sara moaned. It was still tender.

"Oh God," Sara whispered. "It hasn't stopped hurting." She bit down on her bottom lip, and inhaled sharply through her nose. Her eyes began to water again and she flinched every time the wet cloth touched her.

Dean found himself placing his hand on her arm for support. She suddenly grabbed it, and held tightly. He welcomed the pressure. Her face was so contorted in pain. He wished he could do something. Letting her squeeze his hand as Jamie dabbed away the blood was the best he could do.

"Maybe…," Sam started, his eyes thoughtful, "maybe they're using that symbol to track us down, like their own little homing device." Sam brought a hand up to his face, pinching the bridge of his nose, his eyes clenched as if it hurt for him to think. "Maybe the pain your feeling, Sara, is their way of looking for you. The more it hurts, the closer they are."

Sara had craned her neck to look up at the younger brother. Again she looked frightened. "That would mean…" She covered her eyes with her hand just before the tears that hung from the rims of her eyes began to fall. "Oh my God. They must have been close to the motel when I…" Her voice broke.

Dean gently squeezed her hand. "When you what, Sara?"

Sara only shook her head, her eyes still covered.

"One night she texted me," Jamie spoke up for the first time in several minutes. "While she was in the shower, the brand began bleeding. She told me she felt a terrible pain. And in just a few minutes it was gone. Just like that."

Dean looked back at Sara, who shuddered. "Why didn't you tell us earlier?"

"I wanted to," she whispered. She was silent then and Dean expected she wouldn't say anything more.

"She was scared," Jamie answered for her. She looked up at Dean then, her eyes held understanding. "She was afraid of what you might say, keeping something like this from you. She didn't want to worry you, saying that you already had enough on your plate. I wanted her to tell you, but then I realized how the outcome would be if she did." Jamie looked away and began dabbing again, Sara's back going rigid. "We understand you don't trust us, Dean. Sara was worried how you might have reacted because of that fact."

Dean could see pain on her face, the same look of pain she had when he accused her of lying, forcing her to tell him why she truly ran away from home when she was a little girl. The same pain she held when she looked at him with tears in her eyes before leaving out the door and slamming it behind her. He felt his stomach churn.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I know I've been a pompous dick to both of you." Sara looked at him then, Jamie doing the same. "It's just, the stress of finding our father and not knowing why the hell demons are looking for you and how they know you…I just didn't know if I could trust you two. And when Sam came up to me, telling me about your ability to see the spirit before he did, and finding the Sigil of Baphomet in your sketchbook, Sara, I just snapped." He looked at Jamie apologetically. "I'm sorry I attacked you like that, Jamie. If I knew you had been…" Dean couldn't say the words.

Jamie's bottom lip trembled, and she sniffed back the tears that were beginning to form. "I forgive you. Sara was right. I overreacted. There was no way you could have known about my past." Her voice wavered, and her eyes looked very far away. Sara brought up her other hand, resting it on her knee. Jamie smiled then, but it didn't reach her eyes. She brought her attention back on the blood, and continued cleaning it away. "Can I ask something?"

"Go ahead," Sam spoke. He pulled out a chair from the table and sat down, facing the three of them.

"How does one have paranormal sight?" Jamie's voice was small, strained. She still refused to look at them.

Dean exchanged a soulful look to his brother. Sam looked back toward Jamie. "Sometimes, but rarely, they can be born with it. Or in most cases seeing death, or even being near death can sensitize a person to gain psychic tendencies, giving them the ability to see the other side."

Clearly, Dean could see Jamie's body tense and Sara's hand on her knee tightened. Sara looked at Jamie, and she returned the stare. Both were having a silent discussion. Dean knew the looks well. Sam and he had them often.

A look of anguish struck Jamie's face. Dean visibly saw her swallow hard and her jaw tightened. He saw a look in her eyes, as if she was remembering something. The same look of pain returned and Dean found his heart tightening. She was remembering something of her past, Dean decided. He couldn't imagine what she had gone through as a child. John Winchester wasn't father of the year, Dean knew, but he was still a good father. Jamie never had the opportunity to have a loving father.

Sam then cleared his throat. "We need to know what our next move is going be."

Dean let out an audible sigh. "We can't stay here. The demons know where the motel is. For all we know they could be outside the door."

Sara shook her head. "No, I don't think they are." Her hand in his loosened and she slipped it away. "The pain is weakening."

Sam frowned. "No matter where we go, because Sara has that brand on her back, they'll know where we are. They'll always be a step ahead."

"Maybe not," Dean said. "We can use it to our advantage." He looked at Sara then. "You can help us, Sara. Whenever you feel it hurting, you can warn us." He looked back at Sam. "We'll have the advantage. _We'll_ always be a step ahead."

Sara gave a small smile. "I guess this ugly thing isn't such a curse after all."

Dean stood up. "We need to get packing, find another motel to stay for the night. In the morning we'll get moving again."

Jamie had finished dabbing away the blood. She looked up at him. "Can you grab Sara's bag from your room? So she can change into a clean shirt?"

"No problem." Dean sent his gaze toward his younger brother. "Sam, c'mon and help me bring the bags to the car."

Sam stood and averted his eyes back at the women. "You two stay here. We'll get you when we're packed." Dean walked to the door, Sam at his heels.

Walking to his room, Dean unlocked it and grabbed his duffel bag from the floor, throwing it to Sam. He pulled Sara's bag into his hand. He examined the room, looking for anything else they might have forgotten. For a brief moment, Dean stared at the washroom.

_Sara's phone_.

"Sam, here." He gave the bag to him. "Take it to Sara and put my bag in the trunk."

Sam nodded his head and turned to go out the door. Dean sauntered toward the washroom, flipping on the light. He looked down; Sara's phone still lay on the tiled floor, faced down. He bent to pick it up and turned it over in his hand. The small screen on the surface was written with bolded, pixel written words.

_Three missed calls_.

Dean's jaw went taut. The sonofabitch was calling again, even when he told him directly not to. Every time he did, he was putting himself in danger. If the demons knew about Sara's boyfriend—_ex_-boyfriend—they'd use him against her. Despite the pain Andy had inflicted on her, she still cared for him. Demons would use anything necessary to get their way. Sara didn't need the guilt of putting him in danger.

Dean shoved the phone in his pocket and exited out the door. He gave the room another onceover before exited and closing the door behind him. Sam was just throwing his bag in the trunk. He looked up at him as he heard Dean's footsteps. He let out a breath, relieved that it wasn't anyone but his brother.

"Jamie is helping Sara change out of her shirt," Sam explained.

Dean nodded his head. "Give me the keys to your room. I'm going to take them to the front desk."

Sam reached inside the pocket of jeans and dropped the keys in his hand. He watched his brother walk away before closing the trunk and walked back into the motel. Jamie exited out of the washroom along with Sara who almost looked drained of colour.

"Does it still hurt, Sara?" Sam found himself asking.

"A little," she answered and leaned against Jamie who had her hands on her shoulders, supporting her. "I'm just so tired."

"Dean is just returning the keys. We'll be out of here soon. You can rest in the car."

"Let's get going."

Sam turned at his brother's voice. He was standing the doorway, jerking his head to the car.

The group followed him to the Impala and slid into their seats. Dean started the engine and drove out of the parking lot and back onto the road, driving at a speed over the legal limit. Taking the steering wheel in one hand, Dean reached into the pocket of his coat with the other, he reached behind him to the back seat, gesturing Sara's cell phone to her.

She looked up then.

"Andy called three times," Dean said, his gaze toward the road. "I don't want you to call him back." He took his eyes off the road, and looked back at her, pleading. "Please."

Sara was reluctant to take the phone in her hands, her eyes reflecting concern. She placed the phone in her coat pocket, nodding her head to him.

"Okay."

* * *

"Can we get a room with two queens?"

The desk clerk looked up at Dean momentarily over her black rimmed glasses. Her eyes averted toward Jamie, Sara and Sam that waited patiently at the door, their duffel bags over their shoulders. Dean followed her gaze, and then looked back at the older woman with a smug grin.

"There a problem?"

The clerk's gaze returned to Dean, her face contorted in a sneer. "Having more than three people in a room with two beds is against motel policy."

Dean's mouth gapped open. "Are you kidding me? What the hell kind of policy is that?"

The clerk shrugged. "Health issues. I just work here, hon. I don't make the rules."

His fist clenched, Dean opened his mouth to retort when he felt a grip on his arm. He turned his head and looked up at Sam.

"Dean, we don't have time for this," he told him. He looked at the clerk and said, "Do you have two rooms available?"

She smiled. "We sure do, sweetie."

"We'll take them."

The woman smiled briefly, typing in the computer in front of her. "Will you be paying by cash or credit, hon?"

Sam pulled out his wallet. "Credit."

"Are you sure being separated is such a good idea?" Dean whispered toward his brother.

Sam shrugged. "We don't really have a choice do we? Look, either of us can stay with Sara or Jamie, watch over them. We'll just get through the night then leave again in the morning." Pulling out one of his forged credit cards, Sam handed it to the desk clerk.

"Okay fine. Are we flipping a coin with who stays with who?"

"Does it matter?"

Dean ignored him, pulling out a quarter from his pocket. He gestured it towards his brother. "Heads, you get Sara. Tails, you get Jamie."

Sam pursed his lips as Dean flicked the coin in the air, as if it were inappropriate.

"Okay, so you have room 13 and room 7 available. Enjoy your stay." The woman pulled two of the rooms' keys out, handing them to Sam. She smiled toward him before going back to the magazine she was reading.

"Thanks."

"Tails," Dean announced, catching the coin in his hand. "You're staying with Jamie tonight."

The four left through the entrance, back into the cold night. Sam threw Dean his key.

"C'mon Sara," Dean said, lightly touching her arm. When she looked up at him he gestured his head to their room, his face more solemn than it had been since she met him.

"Good night guys," she whispered, a worried glance sent toward Jamie and Sam. Jamie returned the expression, Sam nodding.

Dean placed a hand on Sara's back, leading her toward room 7. "Do you want me to take that?" When Sara stared at him, he pointed toward her duffel bag.

"I got it, Dean. It's alright."

From the look she gave him, Dean believed Sara's answer was directed to more of a deeper understanding than the question he asked.

When they entered the room, Dean closed the door behind him, immediately locking it. He unzipped his duffel bag, grabbing a can of salt and began pouring a line in front of the door. He went for the windows next, making sure the locks were securely fastened. Taking a few steps back, Dean took in his handiwork, making sure he hadn't missed something. When he was satisfied, he dropped the salt into his bag and hesitantly turned toward Sara.

Sara had her back to him, going through her bag, her other hand stroking her shoulder absently. Dean approached her slowly. He lifted his hand to touch her shoulder but hesitated, touching her arm instead. He felt her slightly jump under his touch.

"How is it?" he said quietly.

Sara turned around to face him, finding that he was a lot closer than she expected. His scent filled her nostrils. He smelled faintly of dirt and exertion. Neither of which, bothered her.

"How is your shoulder?" Dean asked again.

His expression was serious, his lips a straight line. Sara stared up at him for a moment, her eyes holding a questionable gaze. Almost immediately, she looked away.

"I don't feel them anymore. It stopped hurting," Sara finally replied.

Dean's brows furrowed. "Do you mind if I see it again?"

Sara sent him a confusing glance.

He brought his hands up defensively. "I just want a better look. I'm not trying to be a perv or anything."

Sara blew out a breath—one that she didn't know she was holding—before she turned away from him and pulled her shirt over her head, exposing her back in front of him. Dean bent closer, studying the brand on her left shoulder. She could feel his breath against her skin, making her swallow. Sara bit her tongue. What was wrong with her?

_It's just the adrenaline still in your veins_, she told herself.

"When did the demons give you this?" Bringing his fingers to the burnt flesh, Dean began tracing the image branded on Sara's skin. She shivered, making him stop for a moment. "Did I hurt you?"

"No. You're hands are just cold," Sara lied.

"Sorry."

Sara closed her eyes, feeling idiotic. Why of all the times, would she react from Dean's touch now? She tried to clear her thoughts, focusing on the brand on her shoulder.

"The day when the demons attacked me, when they had me on the ground...before I passed out, the demon, Missy, grabbed my shoulder." Sara licked her lips, closing her eyes again, still feeling Dean's fingers trace the brand. "I could feel her hand burning me. I only saw it when we got back from the hospital to meet up with Jamie and Sam at the motel."

Sara could hear Dean inhale before his touch slipped away and he took a step back. Sara pulled her shirt back down.

"Did the demons say anything to you? I mean, before we got there tonight?"

"Nothing in particular." Sara sat down on the edge of one of the beds. "They know us Dean. More than we think." She looked up at him. "I think they want Jamie, more than they want me."

"Why would you say that?"

"The way they talk to us, like they need us for something. And they were...happy to find both of us there. But one of them said that having Jamie with me was a 'bonus', as if she's who they really want."

"Where ever you go, she's with you," Dean whispered. "Which is why the demon put that demonic tracking device on your back." The older Winchester began pacing. "Still, it doesn't make any sense. Why do they want you two so badly?"

Sara shrugged with disgruntlement. She had no idea.

Dean ran a hand through his hair. He looked tired and frustrated. "You should get some sleep, Sara."

She nodded her head, grabbing some clean clothes from her bag. She retreated to the washroom to clean herself up.

She doubted she would get much sleep, but it didn't hurt to try.

When Sara exited the washroom, she looked up to find Dean parting the curtains to scout through the window.

"Aren't you gonna get some sleep?"

Dean looked back at her, seemingly surprised by her concern. Sara frowned at him. He was acting differently, strangely. Sara didn't know Dean long enough to understand him yet, but she was making an effort.

"In a bit. Don't worry about me. Everything's going to be fine. Just get some sleep. I'll wake you in the morning when we leave."

Sara nodded her head, throwing her bag off the bed and slipping under the sheets. She closed her eyes, curling comfortably. She yawned then.

"Thank you, Dean. For being there."

Dean turned to her once again. With her eyes closed, she looked at peace for once. She was safe, away from danger. For how long? He didn't know.

Dean sighed, wishing more than ever, that he had the help of his father.

* * *

Sam had been staring out the window when his cell phone began to ring. He shoved his hand in his pocket, pulled out his phone. Caller ID displayed Dean's name and number. Sam answered at once, his heart beginning to beat really quickly.

"Is everything okay?" Sam said into the phone.

"Sammy, relax, everything is fine...for now anyway."

Sam's brow came together in confusion. "Then what's up?"

"Where's Jamie?"

"Washroom. Why?"

"Sam... This might be a whole lot bigger than we think it is. There is something these demons want from them. And they want it bad. I'm worried, man. Until we know what it is, protecting them is just going to get harder and harder."

Sam took a moment to answer. "Do you think they want Jamie for her ability to see spirits?"

"I doubt it. Since when did demons need anything from spirits?"

Tilting his head, Sam could only agree.

"Sara said that the demons know them. I mean specifically know them. Probably every detail about them."

"And we know jack squat," Sam whispered.

"Listen, she also said that the demons want Jamie more than they want her. I think Sara's right. Think about it, man. They went after Jamie first, Sara just happened to be there at the wrong time. Second time they had a chance to take Sara, but they didn't."

"Because they were waiting for Jamie to show..."

"Exactly. They can't have one until they have the other. They're both necessities but Jamie—"

"Is high priority," Sam finished for him.

Dean took in a breath. "We could be wrong, but for now, be extra careful, Sammy. They might come for Jamie first."

"I will, don't worry."

With that Sam hung up his phone, just in time for Jamie to exit the washroom.

Jamie looked at the phone in his hand. Something flashed in front her eyes before she spoke. "Is everything alright?" Her voice was pressing, concerned.

"Yeah," Sam answered, placing his phone on the round table away from him. "Just Dean warning us to be careful."

Jamie seemed to calm after that.

Sam took a seat in one of the chairs, organizing the thoughts in his head. He looked up at the woman in front of him, the memory of her tears, the expression she sent Dean before she left the room, weighed in his mind. She was so distraught, so hurt. Sam didn't know if he had ever seen someone look like that. Look like they were trapped, ambushed, and betrayed. That moment, in that motel room, when Dean accused her of lying, she looked so fragile. Sam could see it, the way she looked a moment ago, like it was burned in his skull.

Sam looked down, absently picking at his nails, thinking of what to say. "Jamie, about earlier..."

A weak smile traced her lips. "It's alright, Sam. Dean apologized. We can put it behind us now."

"I know. I just wanted to apologize for starting it in the first place. I guess this whole situation just goes to show you how little we know about each other."

Jamie was silent as she sat on the edge of one of the beds. She stared into Sam's face before slipping her eyes away and lowering her head. She folded her hands in her lap.

Sam gazed at her for short moment before standing.

"You should get some—"

"I was eleven when I ran from home."

Sam paused, staring at Jamie. She had her head still bowed as she spoke.

"It was just...day after day. It got worse and worse. I was just a kid. I was so terrified of him. Every time he came home from work, he—" Jamie stopped.

She was talking about her father. Sam could hear the strain in her voice as she mentioned him, as if the memories of him abused her also.

Sam approached her, sitting beside her on the bed. He placed a gentle hand on her back. "It's okay; you don't have to tell me."

Jamie looked up, tears glazing her eyes. It broke his heart to see her like this. He could see the fear in his eyes, eleven years worth of fear. Her eyes were dark, clouded and it was then that Sam noticed that her left iris was hazel, while the other green. However, the alternative colours of her eyes didn't bother him. The way she looked at him did. Like she was about to break.

"You said people become more sensitive to spirits when they have near death experiences, right?" Sam opened his mouth to answer, but she didn't give him the time. "He... He nearly killed me once." She bowed her head again, before looking up at the ceiling, avoiding Sam's eyes. Tears fell down her cheeks quickly. "It was six months before I decided to run away. I was sent to the ER. I stopped breathing. It took the doctors a while to resuscitate me. I barely made it, they said. He was there watching. The look on his face... He wanted me dead."

"And no one questioned your father?" Sam asked, appalled.

Jamie shook her head. "My father was a cop. Everyone in town respected him. No one thought twice." She inhaled deeply. "People would accuse my mother before ever accusing my father. They would say she was negligent, careless, didn't know how to take care of her own child... All those bastards were wrong." She looked up at him then, her eyes red. "She was the only one that ever cared for me."

Sam frowned as they locked gazes. The fear in her eyes faded, replaced by sadness and guilt. "What happened to her?"

Jamie stood up, pulling away from his touch. "She died."

Sam hesitated; startled by the way she recoiled from him. "I'm sorry."

Jamie had her back to him. "I ran away. I left my mother with that monster. And he killed her."

"Jamie..." Sam stood and grabbed her shoulder as she sobbed. "Why...You don't have to tell me any of this. Why are you?"

Jamie sniffled. "This is why I needed the painkillers. I haven't had nightmares about it in a long time. But they're back. They've been back since this all started."

"Since the demon attack."

Jamie nodded.

She turned to him, wiping the tears away with her sleeve. "You want to know the truth, there it is. I met Sara when we were twelve at the orphanage. We lived together and separated when we both got accepted into college. We haven't seen each other for three years until she came over when the demon possessed my boyfriend and had me tied in my own house. That's it."

Sam frowned, looking into her face with contemplation.

"Believe me, Sam. I have no idea why demons are after us. Nothing. I don't—"

Sam grabbed her shoulders, cutting her off. "Jamie, it's okay. I believe you. We'll figure it out together. We'll just get through tonight first. One step at a time, okay?"

Jamie bit her lip, nodding slowly.

"Just, get some rest. We'll be out of here in the morning."

Jamie nodded once again, pulling away from his hold and going toward her bed. Sam stared at her as she went, sliding under the sheets and turning away from him. His heart ached. Jamie seemed normal at first, well adjusted, happy. He never guessed how morbid her past had been. And how much it still effected her.

Sam sighed and walked back toward the window. The night was silent, deserted, which wasn't always a good thing.

* * *

It was just a few minutes before five in the morning. He couldn't sleep. He was too worried something might happen if he did.

Dean took a glance at Sara. She was quiet, fast asleep.

"At least one of us is getting some sleep."

Dean slouched in the chair he sat on, leaning his head back as he stared at the ceiling, trying to think.

_Someone wants these girls. What did Sara say? Back in Colorado...Think Dean, think! She mentioned a _he_. Maybe the demons are working for someone. Maybe..._

Dean's eyes began drifting closed. How long had it been since he had a good night sleep? He was just resting his eyes, he told himself. Just a few minutes.

His mind going blank, Dean's body began to relax.

Suddenly he heard rustling, and someone dry heaving.

"D-Dean..."

Dean's eyes flashed open as he immediately got to his feet. He turned, finding Sara sitting up, crouched over. She cried out. Having the feeling back in his legs he ran toward her, kneeling in front of her.

"Sara?"

Looking around, Dean grabbed the lamp by the bed, switching it on. The white sheets were soaked in blood. The back of Sara's shirt was soaked also.

"T-they're... they're..." Sara struggled to say the words.

"It's okay, Sara, just breathe." Dean got up, running to the washroom and grabbing some towels. He ran back to Sara's side. Dean was hesitant before pulling her shirt off her shoulder and placing the towel against the brand that had been soaked in blood.

"Oh God," Sara managed to say.

Dean bent down, looking into her face, but strands of her hair were in front of her eyes. Dean brought up a hand, tucking her hair behind her ear. He placed his hand on her cheek, grabbing her attention.

"They're here, near the motel?" he asked.

Sara looked up at him, her teeth biting her lower lip. She nodded once.

Dean grabbed one of her hands that had been gripping the sheets tightly and placed it atop the towel. "Here, keep pressure on it."

Sara could only wince as she grabbed the towel.

Standing up, Dean pulled his phone from his pocket as he jogged to the window. He peered through the curtains as he dialled Sam's number and brought the phone to his ear. It rung once before Sam answered.

"The demons are here."

"How—"

"The sigil on Sara's back started bleeding. She's in a lot of pain right now. They're close by, Sam."

"Do you see them?"

Dean scanned the parking lot, the sun slowly rising. He saw nobody.

"No. Where's Jamie?"

"Still asleep."

"Wake her up. When the coast is clear, we get out of here."

"Shouldn't we stay?"

Dean frowned, disagreeing. "If we stay, we could be here all day."

"Dean, this is suicide. If we go out there we could be ambushed."

Sighing, Dean took a final glance outside before reaching to Sara's aid. "I know, Sammy, but we don't have a plan B."

"They can't get passed the salt. We can stay here. Eventually, they'll give up."

"And what if they don't?"

Sam only answered with silence.

Using his shoulder, Dean pinched his cell phone to his ear. He rested beside Sara. "How is it?" he asked her.

Sara didn't answer. Her eyes were tightly shut, her teeth clenched tightly together. The hand holding the towel was shaking as Dean lifted it. The towel was wet and sticky, warmed from Sara's blood. He slightly peeled the towel away from her shoulder. The sigil looked oddly and freshly burnt.

"How is she?" Sam finally said through the phone.

"It's really bad, Sam." Dean applied pressure onto the brand making Sara cringe. "Shit. Sam, if we stay here, Sara is going to bleed to death. So, if you got a better plan, I'm all ears, man."

"Okay, okay, we can pack. Throw everything in the Impala while Sara and Jamie stay safely inside the salted rooms. When we're ready, we can make a break for it—head to Mississippi or Arkansas, any state that's closest."

"Alright, be outside in five." Dean pulled the phone from his ear, flipping it closed and shoving it in his pocket. "Everything is going to be fine, Sara. I'm going to get you out of here, away from the demons."

Sara replied with a whimper. Dean got up, grabbing his bag, throwing his things inside. He picked up Sara's bag from the floor. Quickly he peered into the washroom making sure he wasn't missing anything. Dean walked out, stalking across the room. He grabbed the knob on the door and stopped. He looked back at Sara, still holding the towel against her shoulder. As if aware of his stare, Sara looked up, her eyes meeting his. Dean saw desperation, fear, pain and hope.

Dean's brows furrowed before he turned and exited the door.

* * *

"Is that everything?" Sam asked, picking up the duffel bags.

"Yeah, I think," Jamie replied, still a little disoriented. "Did Dean tell you how Sara is doing?"

Sam met her eyes then. "She's not doing so good."

"It's because of the demons."

"Yeah. This is why we need to get you two out of here and quick. Dean said she's losing a lot of blood."

"Dammit." Jamie stood, approaching the door.

"Where you going?"

"With you," she answered, as if his question was an odd one to ask.

"No, you have to stay here where it's safe."

"But Sara—"

"Will be fine," Sam cut her off. "Dean and I just need to get everything packed in the Impala. You and Sara are safe in the rooms. When my brother and I get everything we'll get you."

Jamie looked like she could refuse, but she took a step back, seemingly defeated.

"Fine."

"I'll be back, don't worry," Sam reassured. He waited for her to nod before exiting out the door, avoiding the line of salt, and closing the door behind him.

"Great," Jamie whispered and collapsed on one of the beds.

The sun had just arisen and already the demons had begun wreaking havoc. Jamie could only think of Sara, in the other motel room, bleeding and in pain. But, Sam told her to stay put, until he came back. Jamie looked at the line of salt against the door, and on the window sills.

What do the demons want?

Jamie thought about calling Sara's phone, but she doubted she'd pick up, and it wouldn't be long before she saw her in the Impala anyway. So Jamie waited.

And waited.

"What's taking him so long?" Jamie wondered. It had been longer than it should have been. She got up, and peered through the window.

The sun had become bright quickly. She could see the Impala clearly, but she was alone. There was no sign of Dean, no evidence of Sam. Jamie narrowed her eyes. She couldn't see any of their bags near the car. They were gone.

Jamie stepped away from the window, contemplating. If she stepped out of the room, she was putting herself in danger. Maybe it was nothing, she assured herself. For all she knew they were in the room with Sara, helping her to the car or something. However, there was a feeling in Jamie that she couldn't shake. And it wasn't a good feeling.

Jamie looked at the clock by her bed. She'd wait, just for a few more minutes before she decided.

Knocking came at her door, loud and quick.

Jamie shot her sights on it. Sam knew it was unlocked.

Cautiously, Jamie approached it. As long as the line of salt wasn't broken, they couldn't get in.

"Jamie? Are you in there?"

"Sara?" Jamie called before opening the door. "Wha—"

"Are Dean and Sam in here?" Sara asked, her expression troubled.

"What? No," Jamie answered. Sara entered the room, closing the door. "I thought they were with you."

Sara shook her head and began to pace. Jamie saw the blood on the back of her shirt.

"Sara."

She turned to her at the sound of her voice. Jamie's eyes were wide and Sara looked like she understood.

"It's okay," she explained. "It's dry blood. It stopped bleeding before I came to see you."

"I don't understand," Jamie said, exasperated. "Where are Dean and Sam?"

Sara stared at her for a long moment. "Dean left to pack his and my bag into his car. I was still in too much pain to do anything. He was gone for a lot longer than he should have been... Jamie, I don't feel them anymore."

"The brothers?"

"No, the demons."

Jamie stiffened. "They're gone." It wasn't a question.

"Shit," Sara cussed, her voice cracking. "What if they got attacked? What if..."

Jamie shook her head. "Okay calm down. Look, we need a plan before we decide on anything. Did you see anything walking here?" she asked rationally.

Sara shook her head. "I was too worried. I ran here. I didn't see either of them outside."

Jamie sighed, rubbing her eyes, thinking. "How's your shoulder?"

"Normal. The demons aren't here anymore. They were, with that I'm sure, but their gone now."

Jamie grabbed her coat from her bed, slipping it on. "We need to go outside, check the Impala. You sure it's safe out there?"

Sara nodded. "Safe from demons anyway."

"Okay."

Jamie opened the motel door and stepped out. On impulse, she surveyed the area anyway, just to make sure. Nothing looked out of the ordinary; it was just how it looked the night they came here. There were no demons, and definitely no Winchesters.

Jamie began approaching the Impala, Sara close behind her. Leaning against Dean's vehicle, she peered into the interior. Nothing.

"The doors are unlocked," Jamie informed.

Sara circled the car, observing anything strange and out of the ordinary. Frustrated, Sara couldn't find anything. She took another step, her boot hitting something. The object jingled and skid a few inches away. Sara looked down, seeing silver. She bent and grabbed keys that had been left on the floor.

"Found anything?" Jamie asked, exiting out the passenger seat and closed the door.

"Keys."

"To what?"

Sara looked up, showing her. The keys hung from her finger. "To the Impala."

"Dean wouldn't just leave that on the floor..."

"Exactly."

Sara made her way toward the trunk. Using the keys, she unlocked it and lifted it up. All their bags were in there, none missing. Jamie came behind her. Both bewildered.

"Alright," Sara said. "Any thoughts?"

Jamie frowned. "None of them good."

"Gimmie one," Sara replied, her eyes still on the bags, her hands shaking.

"Dean and Sam are missing." Jamie voice was weak, strained. "And the demons are behind it."

* * *

Dean inhaled sharply. Groggily, he opened his eyes. His vision was blurred. He blinked a couple of times, focusing his sight. He groaned, the pain in his head throbbing. He adjusted his composure.

He couldn't move his arms. He couldn't move his legs.

Realization struck him.

Dean was tied down on a chair, his hands behind him. He looked around, observing his surroundings. He was in a room, dark, dusty and broken. Abandoned. Dean turned his head, seeing if he could see anything else behind him. From the corner of his eye, he could see hair, and a face.

"Sam?"

Sam was on a chair, back to back against his, his arms and legs restrained. He was out cold.

"Sam! Sam, wake up."

Dean nudged him as hard as he could. Sam moaned and he began to move.

"Wha—?"

Dean could hear his chair creak as he began to struggle against the binds.

"Dean? Where are we?" Sam asked.

"I don't know. Do you see anything on your side?"

"A door, and a doorway" Sam replied.

"Fantastic." Dean sighed and began working on the knots of his binds.

"Dean, what the hell happened?"

"I can answer that."

In unison, Dean and Sam looked up. Stepping away from the shadows, the redheaded demon appeared. Her eyes were ebony black, her smile sinister and mocking. Her arms were crossed over her chest as she began circling around them.

"Comfy?"

"Oh, bite me," Dean spat.

"You...," Sam whispered with recognition.

"Hi, I'm Missy, pleased to meet you again, Sam and Dean Winchester."

"How do know our names?" Sam asked.

"Please. You two have been a real pain in my ass."

"Hate to break it to you sister, but we'll continue to be a pain in your ass." Dean smiled smugly.

Missy laughed aloud. "Not for long, boys."

Suddenly the door drew open, the male demon entered, ignoring the Winchesters entirely.

"Have they called yet?"

"No, Lucius," Missy replied. "But they will."

"You're using us as bait," Sam observed.

Missy smiled. "Well, nothing sure gets passed you, does it?"

Dean looked up at her hatefully. "What do you want with them?"

Missy approached Dean, grabbing his chin. She narrowed her eyes at him. "We don't want anything to do with them. We're just following orders." Dean pulled away from her grip and she stepped back. "And because of you two, our master is pissed. How hard is it really to capture two defenceless women?" Missy then threw a fist against Dean's jaw, whipping his face to the side.

Dean looked back up at her, her smile was gone, her face angry. "So, the boss is mad at you? Guess you won't be getting that big promotion, huh?"

"He won't be mad once I fix our little problem."

"Do you really think your plan is going to work? Jamie and Sara will never come here, they'll know it's a trap," Sam inquired.

"Any idiot would know this is a trap. But, they're obligated to come here," Missy said. "You think they're going to stay at the motel like good little girls? No. They'll think of some stupid plan to save you two, because they have to. And once they come here, we'll have them, kill you two and be on our way."

"You bitch," Dean hissed.

"I'm the bitch?" Missy asked, mockingly hurt. "You two were stupid enough to intervene. This had nothing to do with you!"

"You think that we were just going to let you take them?" Sam replied, annoyed.

Missy turned her sights on the younger brother, and approached him slowly. She grabbed either side of his chair, leaning toward him until her face was inches away from his. Sam flinched for a moment as she blinked, her black eyes revealed.

"You should have."

The brothers remained silent.

A guitar riff broke the quietude. Dean lowered his head, recognizing it all to well as the guitar riff from the song Not Going Away by Ozzy Osbourne.

It was the ringtone to his phone.

"Shit," he cussed, closing his eyes.

Missy smiled. "And the show begins."

Lucius grabbed Dean's cell phone from the table beside him, throwing it toward Missy whom quickly caught it.

"Hm, looks like they called Dean first. Sorry, Sam. Looks like the older brother wins this round. And let's see which one of the girls is calling, shall we?" Missy looked at the phone, reading the caller ID. "Sara." Missy's eyes shot to Dean's, a grin creeped the corners of her lips. "She sure fancies you, doesn't she? Why don't we make this a conference call?"

Flipping open Dean's phone, the redheaded demon pressed the center button, the screen flashed, SPEAKER PHONE on the screen.

Sara's voice came out loud and clear, anxious and concerned, through the speakers.

"Dean? Dean! Are you okay? Dean?"

"Sara, don't come—!"

Missy backhanded Dean before he could say anymore. He spat blood from his mouth, landing a vicious gaze back at the demon.

"Dean, you okay?" Sam asked, worried.

He didn't answer him.

All the while staring at the older brother, Missy brought the phone close to her lips. "Dean Winchester can't come to the phone right now, but perhaps we could talk?"

Sara didn't reply.

"Tell me, honey, how's your shoulder?"

"Screw you," Sara hissed.

"You know what the best part of me putting that sigil on your back is? Is the fact that you idiots thought you can use it to your advantage. A demonic symbol on your back will never be a good thing, but it was nice of Dean to lie on your behalf."

"What did you do with them?"

"Relax, they're here. Nice and comfortable. Say hi, Sam." The demon brought the phone near Sam's lips.

He narrowed his eyes. "Don't listen to her, Sara."

It was moments before Sara said anything. "What do you want from us?"

"I want you and Jamie Leslie to come here. We'll let the Winchester's go, safe and soundly. In exchange for you two. Fair trade, don't you think?"

"Sara, no—!"

Whipping her hand against Dean's cheek again, Missy grabbed his chin with a bone crushing grip.

"One more word and I will rip that snarky tongue right out of your mouth. Understand?" she told him, her voice dripping with venom.

"You have to promise me...," Sara whispered through the phone, between Dean and the demon, "to let them go, without a scratch."

Missy leaned away from Dean. "Anything for you, darling. Not one scratch."

_Don't do it Sara, I'm begging you. Don't._

"Fine. It's a deal."

Dean shut his eyes tightly and lowered his head.

Missy smiled widely. "You'll find us, in an abandon shack just four miles west of the motel. We'll be waiting."

She flipped closed Dean's phone, and stared at the two brothers.

"Unfair, isn't it? Both of you worked so hard keeping them from us, only to have them come straight to our doorstep in exchange for your safety. I love naive humans."

* * *

"It's a trap."

"Yeah, no shit Sherlock," Sara nearly shouted, throwing her phone against the bed. "What are we going to do? Goddamnit, what the hell are we going to do!"

"Calm down!" Jamie yelled angrily.

Sara quieted, lowering onto the edge of the bed.

"We just have to think," Jamie whispered. She blew out a breath and began pacing. "Right now, we know they haven't killed Sam and Dean yet."

"They won't kill them until we get there," Sara chimed.

"We have to think of a plan, to get them out."

Sara looked up at her friend, incredulously. "Are you insane? Sure, we'll make a half-baked plan to rescue Dean and Sam from demons that nearly killed us. Do you have any idea how crazy that sounds? We got nothing, Jamie! The brothers are our only defence, we don't stand a chance!"

Jamie's brows bunched together, furiously. "Well, then you think of something! I rather try than stay back and wait for them to kill Sam and Dean and then come for us! They've protected us for this long, Sara. Half-baked or not, we need to help them."

Sara ran a hand down her face. "I know... But what do you suggest? We're not the Winchester's, Jamie. We're not hunters."

"No. But we're all they've got."

She stared long at Jamie. This was crazy, suicidal. But Jamie was right. If they didn't save the brothers, no one would. Sara thought about Dean, the way he looked at her before he left their room. He looked desperate and distressed, like he'd do anything to protect them. To protect two women he barely knew.

Sara could only return the favour.

She stared hard at Jamie, giving one nod. "What's the plan?"

Before a briefing could begin, Sara grabbed a clean tanktop from her bag of clothes. She did as much as she could cleaning the dried blood off her shoulder, the brand looking normal as before, as normal as it could be anyway. Jamie began sorting out their artillery in the Impala's trunk when Sara stepped out, tying up her brown wavy locks.

"So, what do we know?" Jamie asked her. "About demons," she added.

Sara leaned into the trunk and grabbed a silver flask, "Holy water burns the little bastards."

"Sam and Dean used salt to keep them from coming in the rooms..." Jamie grabbed one of the shotgun shells. "Do you think rock-salt works on them?"

Sara took the shell from her hand. "It won't kill them, but it'll definitely hurt like hell."

"Holy water and rounds of rock-salt," Jamie confirmed. "I guess this is when we get creative."

Sara placed the shell back, closing the secret compartment and then the trunk. She rounded the Impala and stopped at the driver's side, pulling out the keys from her pocket.

"We can't decide anything until we know what the place looks like."

"Let me drive," Jamie pleaded. "The closer we get to the demons... Your shoulder might begin to bleed again."

"No."

Jamie frowned. "Why not?"

"'Cause," Sara gave her a guilty smile as she lifted Dean's keys in her hand, "I've been wanting to drive this black stallion since I first laid eyes on it."

Jamie rolled her eyes. "You scratch it, and Dean will kill you."

"I rather that then the demons killing all of us."

Jamie couldn't argue with that. They both entered the Impala. Sara entered the keys in the ignition, turning on the vehicle. The Impala purred to life. Sara reversed from the parking lot and exited out of the main road, speeding as fast as she could.

"There's just forest out here, why would there be an abandon shack in the middle of nowhere?" Sara questioned as she drove.

"It's probably a hunting shack," Jamie answered.

"You mean, a shack, full of hunting tools to kill and skin animals."

Jamie looked at Sara oddly. She took her eyes from the road, locking her eyes with Jamie's. Both minds thought of the same gruesome possibilities. Torture.

Both women looked back at the road, both silent.

* * *

"That sigil you burned into Sara's shoulder... You used it to get us out of the motel," Sam whispered, staring at the floor.

"You always seemed like the smarter brother," Missy exclaimed. "You think it burns when we're near?" She laughed. "I wouldn't put something like that on her if it gave us away every time we were close. It only burns when I want it to burn. It burns when I'm looking for her."

"Demons using hocus pocus to find a couple of girls. What happened to old fashioned looking?" Dean said.

"It went right out the window with you boys showed up." She crossed her arms. "It was really inconvenient, when you did. I would love to know how. You boys were there at the right place, right time. A little suspicious, don't you think?"

Dean lifted and turned his head, staring at Sam in the corner of his eye.

At that moment, Sam looked away.

* * *

Sara pulled up into a dirt road and stopped the Impala. The road led to a sharp turn. She couldn't see anything beyond that.

"I can't see with the trees in the way."

"Binoculars," Jamie replied and got out of the car.

"What?" Sara exited also.

"I saw a pair of binoculars in the trunk." Jamie rounded the Impala, lifting the trunk and then the lid of secret compartment. She grabbed the binoculars and began walking. "C'mon."

Unaware of Jamie's thoughts, Sara followed anyway. She entered the forest at the right side of Impala, taking slow steps, avoiding twigs and branches.

"Do you see that?" Jamie asked, pointing toward a small shack at a distance through the trees.

Sara took the binoculars from her hands and looked through the lenses. The shack looked filthy and broken down. The wood was rotting, the roof falling apart. She saw small windows, both covered with curtains from the inside. Sara took a few steps closer and knelt down beside a tree to take a better look. There was a crack between the curtains in one of the windows. She narrowed her eyes, focusing through the crack of visibility. She saw the back of someone's head, their arms bound behind them.

"I think I see Sam."

"Is he alright?" Jamie questioned.

"I don't know." A figure walked by, her view of Sam blocked for a moment. She saw that same orange hair she would always remember. "The demons are in there, waiting."

"C'mon, let's get back to the car."

The two ran back, meeting at the trunk, supplying themselves.

"How's your shoulder?"

"It's strange," Sara answered. "The demons are there, but nothing. I don't feel anything."

Jamie furrowed her brow and looked at her left shoulder, Sara's tanktop exposing the sigil entirely. She saw no blood, nothing different. Jamie looked back into the trunk. She picked up one of the knives.

"Knives won't hurt them, Jamie."

"Not unless they were dripping with holy water." Jamie smirked.

Sara slightly laughed. "Maybe there is a hunter inside of you after all," she said, grabbing a sawn-off shotgun. Remembering how Dean had loaded it earlier, she opened it up, sliding in rock-salt shells.

"Okay, I'm going to go through the back," Sara began, "and try to get the demons attention."

"What? Sara, no. That thing on your back, they'll use it against you like last time."

"I know which makes me useless but a good decoy. You can go through the front. Chances are Sam and Dean are tied down on chairs or something. You can cut them loose."

"And then?"

Sara sighed. "We let the guys take over, I guess."

Jamie nodded, unsure.

Sara stopped for a moment, a slight pinch at her shoulder. She brought her hand to the burnt flesh.

Jamie looked up at her. "What's wrong?"

"They know we're here." Sara exhaled and then slammed the trunk shut. "Wait until I'm inside, then help the guys."

"How will I know when you're inside?"

Sara lifted the shotgun in her hand. "Listen for a loud bang." Sara looked back at Jamie, studying her before turning.

"Sara." Jamie grabbed her arm. "Be careful."

Sara looked back and nodded her head. "I will."

Sara ran up the dirt path, keeping close to the trees. She could see more clearly through the windows. It was indeed Sam she saw, sitting down. She saw another body behind him.

_Dean_.

With one final look, Sara slipped around the shack, staying clear from the windows. Behind it, there were chopped logs, and an axe pierced into a stump. Sara looked up, seeing the back door. She sighed, tightening her hands on the shotgun.

_Okay. This is completely insane, but that's alright. Insane is good. I think..._

Sara told herself to calm, trying to focus her thoughts. She approached the door, peering through the glass. She saw another room, vacant. Sara brought her hand to the knob and turned it slowly. It was unlocked. With one hard push, Sara slammed the door open, the door slamming hard against the wall. She flattened against the wall by the door way and waited.

"Lucius, check it out."

Sara held her breath and waited, hearing the footsteps as they landed on the creaky hard wood floor. She waited until they were loud enough, close enough.

Slowly, she mouthed the numbers in her head.

"One, two, _three_."

Sara quickly pulled away from the wall and into the doorway. She only glimpsed at the male demon before lifting up the shotgun and pulling the trigger. The recoil stunned her for a second as she watched the impact hit Lucius and he slammed onto the floor hard. He groaned in pain, holding his chest. Sara walked into the room, stopping beside the demon. Lucius looked up at her, his eyes becoming black slits.

"Rock-salt won't kill me."

"No," Sara agreed. "But it hurts like hell, doesn't it?"

* * *

Sam and Dean both jerked their heads at the loud bang. Missy stepped away from the wall, her eyes narrowed.

"Lucius..."

She walked and made her way out of the room.

Dean began struggling hard against the ropes, exerting his body to break or loosen them somehow. He inhaled, catching his strength for a second.

"Anything?" he asked, feeling his brother struggle against the ropes as well.

All movement stopped as the brothers heard a loud cry of pain. Dean recognized it instantly, his eyes going wide.

"Sara!"

The front door suddenly drew open, Sam and Dean glancing its way. Jamie entered in the room.

Sam opened his mouth to say something when Jamie brought a finger to her lips, silencing him. She pulled out a knife and reached the brothers, kneeling down between them and began cutting the ropes.

"Jamie, quick, Sara—"

She cut Dean off. "I know I know. I can hear her."

"Lucius, check on the Winchesters."

Jamie eyes went wide.

"Jamie, run," Sam whispered.

But it was too late. Lucius entered the room, his eyes locking onto Jamie.

"I wouldn't do that, sweetheart. The boys are having a time out." Lucius lifted his hand.

Quickly, Jamie slipped the knife into Sam's hand just in time for her to be thrown away from them. She hit hard against the wall behind Lucius, falling to the ground. She coughed out, sitting herself up. Lucius walked up to her, bending down and grabbing the collar of her shirt.

Jamie pulled her wet knife out, slicing it deep in his wrist. Lucius pulled back with a wince. He examined his sizzling cut before looking back at the blade of the knife, dripping with clear liquid.

"A blade soaked with holy water," he said. "You girls are smarter than I give you credit for."

Jamie swiped at him again, only to have the knife knocked out of her hand and across the room.

"Sam, NOW!"

Lucius turned. Both brothers broke through the severed ropes. Sam ran, tackling Lucius to the ground away from Jamie. He straddled him and threw a fist against his jaw.

"Dean!" Jamie called. "Here!"

He turned to her in time for Jamie to throw a shotgun to him.

"Help Sara."

* * *

Sara held onto her shoulder, pinned to the ground. She could already feel the blood dripping from the sigil. Missy stood a few inches away, her hand held in front of her, closed into a fist. A crashing noise erupted behind her, making her lose her focus.

"Lucius?"

_Bang_.

Thrown by the force of the shotgun, Missy slammed into a wall and down to the ground. Dean ran past her toward Sara whom was just trying to sit up. He knelt down in front of her, either hand cupping the sides of her face to look at her.

Her eyes opened slightly as she breathed deeply.

"C'mon." Dean threw her arm over his shoulder, helping her up.

Missy stood up, recovering. Her teeth were gritted together as she lifted her hand. Quickly, Dean pulled his shotgun up and pulled the trigger again, hitting Missy square in the chest.

"Let's get the hell out of here."

Dean took a step toward the other room before Sara stopped him.

"Dean, back door...safer..."

Nodding his head, Dean broke into a slight jog toward the back door, exiting outside of the shack. They jogged around it. The front door opened, Sam and Jamie running out.

"The Impala is down the road," Jamie informed.

"Okay, go, go, go," Sam said, pushing Jamie forward.

The four began running, Dean supporting Sara who tried her hardest to keep up. They panted as they ran against the cold dirt when Sara slipped out of Dean's grip and collapsed on her knees. She dry heaved. Her eyes were wide.

Dean looked back.

Missy stood from a distance. Her face was angry, her fist in front of her. She twisted her fist slowly.

Sara let out an ear piercing scream, more painful than any cry she had ever let out before. Distinctly, Dean could see sizzling sparks of fire on the burnt flesh of the sigil on her shoulder, before it began pouring out blood. Sara screamed again, curling into herself.

Dean looked back at Sam and Jamie. "Go!"

Hesitating, Sam took Jamie's hand and began running.

Dean bent down, sliding his arm under her legs, and his other around her torso. He lifted her up and began running. He could feel her blood seeping through his clothes. Sara cringed against him, tears pouring down her cheeks. As soon as he saw his black Impala, Dean picked up the pace.

Missy tightened her fist harder, straining the muscles in her hands, feeling the power burn.

"Stop!"

Ignoring Lucius, Missy twisted her fist.

Lucius grabbed her wrist quickly, pulling her hand away. "Stop it. You'll kill her."

Missy growled, pulling her hand from his grasp. "I don't care!"

"Master wants them both alive," he explained calmly.

"What's so important about them? They're just women! They're useless to us!" Missy shouted, her face contorting into a sneer.

Lucius grabbed her chin, staring down at her. "The only one that gets the satisfaction of killing Sara Collins and Jamie Leslie is _him_."

* * *

Dean laid Sara on the back seat, sliding in beside her before Sam started the Impala and pulled off the dirt road.

"Sara?" Dean patted her cheek a couple of times. Her eyes were closed, her face drained and pale.

"Dean? How is she?" Sam asked, glancing at the rear-view mirror.

Jamie turned back, her eyes glistening.

Dean placed a finger under Sara's nostrils, feeling the warm air of her breath against his skin. "She's still breathing. She's just knocked out cold."

"The way she was screaming...," Sam whispered.

Dean looked down at Sara, sliding the hair away from her face.

"We should take her to the hospital," Sam inquired.

Dean shook his head. "No."

"Dean—"

Looking up, Dean stared hard at his brother's reflection in the rear-view mirror. "The demons will follow us there. Just keep driving."

Sam only nodded his head, his eyes drifting back onto the road.

Jamie's eyes caught Dean's, both holding gazes of anguish. The older brother slipped his eyes from hers, lowering them to his clothes, soaked with Sara's blood.

* * *

LITTLE ROCK, ARKANSAS

Sam leaned against the doorway to the washroom, staring at his older brother. Dean was at the sink, rubbing off the blood from his t-shirt with a damp cloth. The faucet was running, water sliding down the drain, the clear liquid tainted with red. Dean looked up at Sam's reflection in the mirror he stood in front of.

Sam opened his mouth to say something when Dean interrupted.

"How is she?"

Sam exhaled the breath he was holding. "She's still out." Dean didn't say anything, looking back down at his shirt and continued scrubbing. Sam adjusted his composure. "She's been out for more than eight hours Dean, I'm worried."

"You and me both."

"I'm just saying, maybe the hospital—"

"Sam"—Dean dropped his shirt and stared at his brother's reflection again—"we've talked about this already. No. It's not safe."

"It's not exactly safe here either."

"It's _safer_."

"Dean—"

"No." Dean turned away from the mirror, facing his brother. "I'm not arguing with you on this anymore, Sam. The sigil on her shoulder stopped bleeding. God knows what those demons have done to her but all she needs is rest. We're staying, end of story."

Sam stood there for a moment before Dean turned away and returned back to his shirt. Shaking his head, Sam walked out into the main room. Jamie sat on the side of the bed where Sara laid. Jamie stroked her forehead and cheek with the back of her hand, Sara's face paler is comparison to Jamie's skin.

Jamie looked up at him. He gave her a small smile.

"How you feeling?"

"Little bump to the head, I've had worse," Jamie replied. "How about you? You were tied up for a while."

"I'm fine." Sam took a seat on the bed opposite of Jamie. "Dean got most of the hits. He never did know how to keep his mouth shut."

Jamie smirked. She looked down at Sara, the corner of lips lowered. "Is she going to be okay?"

"Honestly, I don't know." Sam frowned, lacing his fingers together and leaning his elbows against his legs. "I've got to say, I was impressed."

"With?"

"Dipping the knives into holy water, it was pretty smart."

Jamie smiled at him and shrugged. "I improvised." The two were silent for a moment. "We're not taking her to the hospital, are we?"

"Dean, he...doesn't think it's safe." Sam stood, walking toward the window. "We just got to take it easy, wait for her to wake up. Then we'll move again, as far as we can go."

"It would be a good a time as ever to have your father, wouldn't it?"

Sam looked back at Jamie, his expression thoughtful.

Jamie had no idea how right she was.

By the time Dean exited out of the washroom, Sam decided to leave to buy some food for the group. He didn't refuse, only told him to be careful out there. Jamie was lying on the couch, taking a nap in front of the television.

Dean threw his shirt atop his duffel bag and walked across the room. He switched off the television, the motel room becoming silent. Pulling out his cell phone from his pocket, Dean placed it on the vacant table. His eyes slipped toward Sara. Before he knew it, his legs began to move until they stopped in front of her.

Her screams echoed in his head, the same screams that made his ears ring when she collapsed on the floor. The demons almost killed her. But why would they risk that? Dean lowered himself beside her. Slowly the colour was coming back to her face. Dean brought his hand to her cheek. She was warm again. Dean let out the breath he didn't know he was even holding.

Sara then moaned, reaching her hand to her face. She held Dean's hand to her cheek and opened her eyes slowly.

"Dean?" she whispered. "I thought you were Jamie. Your hands are warm..."

Dean chuckled. "How you doing, kiddo?"

"Can't complain." She weakly smiled. "How was our amateur rescue plan?"

He grinned. "I got to say, two chicks jumping in, taking two demons on. It was kinda hot."

She laughed slightly but when she looked up at him, her face became serious for a second. She looked away uncomfortably and moved slightly. She groaned. "What did they do me?"

"I was hoping you'd tell me."

Sara furrowed her brow, thinking hard. "Ripping..."

"Ripping?" Dean questioned.

"I felt like I was being ripped apart from the inside..."

Her hand holding his began to tremble as she remembered the pain. For a second, seeing her like this, Dean thought he almost understood. The pain was unbearable, torturous. He didn't feel it, but he could see it in her eyes.

Just then, the door opened and Dean suddenly pulled away.

"Hey, you're awake," Sam said, closing the door behind him.

"Hey, Sam," Sara greeted. She looked back at Dean whom stood up from her bed. Disturbed by his sudden withdraw, Sara looked away from him.

"I brought some food, in case you were hungry."

Sara smiled slightly. "Sounds good."

"Better be a cheeseburger in there." Dean grabbed the paper bag from Sam's hand and looked inside.

Sara tried to sit up, her body sore. She bit her button lip trying to adjust herself.

"You okay?" Sam asked, coming to her side.

"I will be," she replied. "Hand me a cheeseburger. I'm starving."

"She's definitely okay."

Jamie got up from the couch, grinning. She rubbed her eyes with her sleeve and took a seat beside her friend. She pulled a strand away from Sara's face and smiled down at her.

Dean placed the paper bag on the table, reaching Sam's side. The brothers exchanged a soulful look. Having those silent discussions they always seemed to have. Both traded a sign of agreement before they looked back toward the two women.

"Sara, Jamie... Sam and I wanted to thank you," Dean began, "for risking your lives, to save ours."

"We didn't do much. We just knew we couldn't just stand around and do nothing," Jamie said.

"A part of me wanted you to stay out of harm's way," Dean explained. "But I'm glad you both came."

Jamie smiled. "We do still need you two. Who else is going to help us find John Winchester?"

"We need to make a truce," Sam said. "No more secrets, from both sides."

Sara and Jamie nodded their heads. Everyone exchanged a look of agreement.

Dean cleared his throat. "Okay, enough with this sentimental crap. Let's eat."


End file.
